


Sun and Moon

by Boogum



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Crystal Catacombs, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, Kisses, Pre-Relationship, Romance, Western Air Temple shenanigans, Zutara, Zutara Week 2018, Zutara Week 2019, unconnected one-shots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2019-10-15 08:16:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 38
Words: 40,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17525099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boogum/pseuds/Boogum
Summary: A Zutara collection. Genres will vary.





	1. Talisman

It is a child's mantra, the kind of thing that must be repeated over and over because there is no one else to give comfort and fear has long since distorted the truth. There are no monsters under the bed. I am not afraid of the dark. Azula always lies.

_Azula always lies._

Her stomach twists and she hugs her knees to her chest, wondering what kind of sick experiences could cause a sixteen-year-old boy to mumble those words in his sleep. She wonders why she even cares.

She doesn't trust him. She doesn't even like him. He just turned up at the temple with a wave and a hello and expected to be welcomed into their group. But she hasn't accepted him. She will never accept him, not after Ba Sing Se. Not after everything he has done.

_Azula always lies._

Her fingernails dig into her knees. She wishes he would stop, wishes she had never woken up and decided to go for a walk to shake off the restless feeling in her limbs. Then she would not have discovered him curled up in a pathetic looking ball far from the warmth of the fire, far from the warmth of his companions, and muttering those desperate words over and over like a talisman. She would not be experiencing such inner turmoil, wondering if she should wake him or leave him.

_Azula always lies._

It's just three words, but somehow they dig deeper into her heart with every whisper. Perhaps it's part of being a healer, or perhaps it's just her own inexplicable compassion seeping through, creating cracks in her resolve no matter how many times she tells herself that she hates him and that he doesn't deserve a scrap of her respect.

"Just let it go," she tells herself. "It's just a nightmare."

Except she knows it is not in her nature to walk away. That's why she's still sitting beside him, shivering under the pale beams of the moon. The nightmare is hurting him, pushing him to speak those magic words that will make the ache in his heart fade. But the monster is more powerful than his talisman. She can see it in the tightness of his jaw, in the sweat gathering on his brow and the frantic flutter of his eyelashes against his cheeks. He is losing this battle, and somehow his pain speaks out to her, begging to be healed.

_Azula always lies._

Katara closes her eyes and buries her face into her knees. Everything in her resists helping him, but another part—the part that reached out for a scarred cheek and traced skin so rough it was like dragon scales—knows that this is something she must do. Because she does care, and though she doesn't trust him, she cannot ignore him either.

Exhaling softly, she raises her head from her burrow and stares down at the boy beside her. He's still huddled up in a ball, hands clasped to his chest as if in supplication. His hair is sticking to his face from sweat, half covering the ugly scar that warps the left side of his features, and for some reason this makes him look absurdly young. She can see his lips forming the words over and over, his talisman against his sister—against whatever truth, or lie, Azula tried to feed him. It is a pitiful sight, but it is enough to prompt her into action.

Without a word, she reaches out and places a tentative hand against his cheek—the unscarred side this time. His skin is clammy to touch, but she ignores that and moves her fingers up to his temple to focus her healing powers on soothing his thoughts, much in the same way she had tried to help Jet back in Ba Sing Se. There is so much resistance, so many barriers that refuse to let her in, but then he lets out a deep breath and just like that the pathways open. She cannot see what images haunt his sleeping mind, what words turn him into a child chasing shadows, but she feels her power begin to take hold and cannot help but smile when his feverish muttering stops.

For now, he is quiet. For now, he is at peace.

Katara's smile curves into a frown as she looks down at him, examining the sharp angles and curves that make up his features. "I still don't like you, you know," she whispers, but there is no malice in her voice.

The boy with the scarred face simply lets out another deep breath and shifts into a more comfortable position, losing his foetal-like posture from before. Absently, she smoothes the sticky hair away from his face and, for reasons she doesn't fully understand, lets her fingers trail in a caress down to his jaw before removing her hand. He does not stir, and for that she can only be grateful. Tonight has been strange enough without having him wake up to discover her there leaning over him. She knows that this impromptu healing session is something she will share with no one, especially not with him.

Her frown deepens and she glances up to stare at the moon, letting the silvery glow wash over her. A part of her is still hyperaware of the boy sleeping beside her, and she sighs and hugs her legs back to her chest, resting her chin on top of her knees. She does not know how to make sense of the feelings that are swirling around inside of her. She never really has known. It's so much easier to deny and deflect, to use rage and hurt to smother her confusion, but he makes that impossible.

"Why do you always have to make things so difficult?" she mutters, glancing back at the dark-haired boy.

Because she doesn't know how to forgive Zuko, but she's beginning to realise that she doesn't know how to hate him either.


	2. Sifu Hotman

Katara didn't think she was ever going to get used to the sticky heat of the Fire Nation. It clung to her skin, making her feel as if she were wearing a second layer of clothing regardless of how little material was actually covering her body. That was why she was dressed in only her white wrappings and blue robe, and why she was staring enviously at the young Avatar who was currently training sans shirt.

Males. They had it so easy. No one cared if they wandered around bare-chested, but if she tried to do that she'd be stuck with a bunch of blushing, spluttering boys and probably a homicidal older brother to boot. It was so frustrating and—

"Oh," Katara breathed, momentarily distracted.

The second jerkbender, as Sokka liked to call anyone who manipulated fire, had just removed his tunic with an impatient tug of his hand and was now taking up a fighting stance, clearly intending to join his pupil. Katara heard the material hit the ground with a soft thwack, but her attention remained riveted on that expanse of bared skin. For some reason, the effect was rather different to what she had experienced while watching Aang.

A light blush stole to her cheeks and, almost helplessly, she found herself following the strong curve of Zuko's shoulders, tracing the sinewy muscle down to the flat planes of his chest. A fine sheen of sweat glistened on his skin, and she bit down on her bottom lip as she allowed her gaze to drop even further, tracking the path of a single droplet as it caressed the defined ridges of his abdomen and then slipped lower and lower until it was lost in the waistband of his pants.

Katara let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding, conscious of the heat slowly creeping its way through her body and forming burning strings that reached deep. She told herself it was just the climate—that the sun was getting to her—yet she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from the Firebender, mesmerised by the way his lithe form rose and fell as he manipulated the fire that swirled around him. He was like a blade, his body honed to perfection, so sharp and deadly, but still so graceful as he swept through the stanzas. Every thrust made her breath come a little bit faster, and she shifted uncomfortably, squeezing her thighs together as she watched his muscles tighten and ripple with each punch and kick, each flash of fire.

No, she decided. Watching Aang train had definitely not been like this.

Zuko crouched into a new form, springing upwards into a kick that burst with flames. Her heart thudded against her ribs and she dug her fingers into the dirt, raising her eyes to his face. His black hair hung loose and half-veiled his features, but when he moved she would catch a glimpse of gold irises and the red scar that skewed the left side of his countenance. On anyone else the disfigurement might have damaged his looks beyond repair, but on Zuko it just seemed to fit. Without the mark she thought he'd be almost too handsome—even painfully so. Yet when he turned to face her, hitting her with the full force of that unique combination of masculine beauty and ugliness, she still found herself breathless. Embarrassingly so.

Gold locked with blue, and she once more took her bottom lip between her teeth as she felt the burning strings within her pull taut, ignited by the fire of his own carefully directed movements. Nothing else existed for her in that moment. Nothing but the fragmented sound of her breathing, the rapid throbbing of her pulse, and the heat—that exquisite yet unbearable heat.

And it was all coming from him.

"Are you okay, Katara?"

She blinked and turned her head to see Aang staring at her in some concern as he stood half-crouched in a Firebending pose. She had almost forgot he was there.

"Huh?" she said, still feeling a little dazed.

Aang rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, it's just ... you look, uh, flushed."

Warmth blossomed on her cheeks, darkening the already pink tones to a rich plum. "It's only because of the heat!"

"I-I know," he stammered, taken aback by the vehemence of her response. "I was just—"

"You just what?" she snapped, standing up and planting her hands on her hips. "Just what are you accusing me of?"

"N-nothing. I just—"

"That's right!" she interjected. "Nothing! Because there is absolutely nothing wrong with looking flushed when it's so hot and—and—" She suddenly rounded on Zuko, pointing an accusing finger at his chest. "And would you please put a shirt on!"

Zuko's brow creased. "What?"

Katara froze as she realised what she had just said. "Nothing," she squeaked. "Please, carry on with your bending."

Cheeks burning with shame, she turned abruptly on the spot and marched back towards the house before they could ask her anything else. Zuko and Aang exchanged puzzled glances.

"That was weird," Aang said.

"Definitely," Zuko agreed.

Katara simply thumped her head against the wall. That was the last time she watched Zuko bend shirtless.


	3. Toph's Field Trip

"This is the worst field trip ever."

Zuko froze, half-wincing as that small and surprisingly wounded voice reached his ears. He didn't think she had meant for him to hear the mumbled words, and if he had any sense at all he would keep walking and pretend that he was as deaf to her murmurs as he had always been to his uncle's assertions that drinking good tea was indeed the meaning of life. Spirits knew he was getting tired of listening to the woes of a twelve-year-old girl and all the many, many times she had run away from home because her parents didn't love her enough to let her throw giant rocks at people. Especially since there were far more important things to worry about—like the fact that Sozin's Comet was almost upon them and Aang had gone missing.

But, alas, Zuko was not deaf (in fact, his hearing was incredibly good) and no amount of pretence could smother that slight tug of his heart or the sickly stab of guilt that twisted his stomach. Damn it all. Since when had he turned so soft? Oh, that's right. Since he joined the Avatar's little gang and discovered the disconcerting powers of a pair of greyish-green eyes and a mean but affectionate right hook.

"Look, Toph," he began in a much kinder voice, turning around to face the blind girl.

Toph folded her arms across her chest and glowered in his general direction. "What?" she snapped. "I thought you said we should be focussing on finding Aang."

He scratched the back of his head. "Well, yeah, but—"

"Then let's look for Aang!"

Zuko frowned as he watched her stomp ahead of him, sand billowing about her with each angry step. He knew he should just leave her be—that she would be quite happy to let the matter drop, if only to protect her pride—but she was hurt and upset and, sadly, he also knew it was because of him. The annoying voice that sounded suspiciously like his uncle told him so, among other proverbial things that Zuko knew he would never understand, even if he spent the rest of his life drowning in tea leaves and trying to unravel the sacred mysteries of Pai Sho.

So, despite knowing that he was risking life and limb for even daring to comfort the sassy Earthbender, Zuko reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder. "Toph," he said gently.

Toph's lips twisted into a scowl. "Watch it, Sunshine. You're one step away from getting a rock-fist in your face."

Zuko prudently released her shoulder. "Listen, Toph. I know you're upset, but—"

"Upset?" She let out a loud, if rather forced, laugh. "I'm not upset. Why should I be upset?"

His mouth twitched into a smile. "So you kicking up a sandstorm back there was just a demonstration of your uncontrollable joy?"

"Exactly!"

She made to walk ahead again, but Zuko easily out-paced her and blocked her path.

"Move," she ordered, thumping her foot against the sand in an ominously determined way.

Zuko didn't move. Instead, he knelt and gripped the small girl by her shoulders. "I'm sorry, Toph," he said simply. "I shouldn't have shut you down like that."

For a moment she just stood there, unseeing eyes gazing blankly ahead. Then her lip quivered and she made a small noise that sounded suspiciously like a sniff before she averted her face, letting her fringe fall down to hide her features. The stabbing, twisty feeling in his stomach sharpened and he tightened his grip on her shoulders. Spirits, was she crying?

"Oh, man," he muttered in alarm. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cr—"

"I'm not crying!" she exclaimed, wrenching herself free from his grasp. "I just got some sand in my eye!"

Zuko wisely chose not to refute her claim. That left foot of hers was looking mighty twitchy and like it might send a boulder flying his way at any moment. Or just a lot of sand.

"Okay," he said slowly, holding his hands up in an appeasing gesture as he got back to his feet; she might not be able to see his expressions, but she could at least make out his outline. "That's fine."

Toph was still looking the other way. "I just—" another sniff, hastily disguised "—I just thought that you might understand, you know, about my parents." More sniffs. "And everyone else got to have these life-changing field trips with you and I—" Her voice suddenly soured. "Well, I bet you wouldn't have said we had to focus on finding Aang if it was Katara walking with you."

Zuko's heart stuttered to a sudden halt in his chest. "What?" he said quickly. Much, much too quickly. "What does Katara have to do with this?"

"Oh, come on, Sunshine! I might be blind but I'm not stupid."

His cheeks warmed, staining the good side of his face a splotchy pink. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Right," she said dryly. "And Sokka really is in love with Appa."

Zuko stared at her for a long moment and then he sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I am not having this conversation with you."

"Why not?" she leaned forward, poking him in the chest. "Afraid you might let something slip?"

"There's nothing to let slip."

A wicked grin curled her lips. "That's not what your heart says."

Zuko smacked his palm against his forehead. He was so not doing this right now.

"Let's just continue looking for Aang," he said curtly, walking ahead.

"Hold it!"

He stopped, gritting his teeth as he turned back to face her. "What?"

"You still owe me an apology."

"I did apologise to you."

She lifted her chin. "Well, I want to hear it again. You ruined my field trip."

Zuko's eyes narrowed. "Fine," he grumbled. "I'm sorry."

She held up a hand. "No. Do it properly."

His jaw clenched, but then he lowered himself into the traditional Fire Nation bow of respect. "I am very sorry for my rudeness, Toph. I hope that you will forgive me." Without waiting for her response, he straightened back to his full height. "So are we good now?"

Toph was quiet for a moment and then, before he could react, she punched his arm with lightning speed.

"Ow!" he groaned, rubbing the bruised limb.

The Earthbender flashed him a toothy grin. " _Now_ we're good."


	4. The Rose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a Mai/Zuko reflection piece, as requested by Cocaine Blues. Zutara is implied.

His mother had loved roses. The palace gardens were filled with them: great bunches of colour with silky petals that demanded to be touched and admired. Zuko had found himself fascinated by the flowers as a child, especially the red ones. The Crimson Queen, in particular, had always caught his eye: a shy rose that unfurled its petals so secretively but, upon reaching full bloom, would dominate all with its vibrancy and rich crown of red. Still, for all the Crimson Queen's beauty and allure, Zuko had learnt from experience that if he held the rose too closely its pleasant facade would crumble, revealing a thorny underside that pierced through tender flesh in tiny pinpricks of pain, sometimes without him even realising. Then the rich crimson would be trailing down his palm and he would know that he had to let the rose go.

He would always have to let it go.

Zuko wished now that he could have learnt his lesson the first time. He also wondered how he had not seen the similarity earlier. Mai always had been good at keeping her distance.

He was sixteen when they had crossed paths again, but he had still been a child when he first noticed her. Glossy black hair, cat-like eyes, and skin as pale as the moon. She was small and still growing into her beauty, but he had known that she would grow up to be something special. He had not been disappointed. The warrior that had stood before him in resplendent red was more woman than girl, and her lips had become infinitely more tempting. He had wanted to draw her closer. He did not notice the thorns that caressed his skin when she accepted his embrace.

_"You're so beautiful when you hate the world."_

He'd said it like it was a compliment. Back then, it was. He'd been bitter and confused, loathing the world and everything in it. She had joined in his misery, fuelling the dark fire within him with her dry comments and stoic ways. It was only natural that they should have come together. In some ways, it was even a relief that she was so indifferent to everything. She didn't care what he had done, what his failures or regrets might be. Her only demand was that he not bore her. Zuko had thought he could live with that.

He tried to ignore the little pinpricks of pain that dug into his heart whenever she shut him down for attempting to do something nice for her. He tried to not let it bother him when he wanted to express his thoughts and she just sighed in that weary way of hers, as if he were a small child that she had to humour. He focussed instead on the way she made him laugh, on the sweet taste of her kisses, and the silky softness of her skin. It helped, a little, but the ache in his chest still remained, growing stronger with each passing day.

Whispering that something was wrong.

It wasn't until he joined the Avatar that he realised what he had been missing. He noticed it the first time he looked at a sunset and saw beyond the orange that Mai oh-so-hated to the simple beauty of fire in its purest form. He felt it when he knelt in front of a circle of ragtag children to serve tea and tell bad jokes (because he could only ever remember the punch line) and they just smiled and laughed in fond acceptance, because _that's what friends do_ , and it wasn't as if he was the only one who couldn't tell a joke to save himself. However, it was when a girl with ocean-blue eyes threw her arms around him in an impulsive hug that the truth was finally confirmed to him.

Zuko had not been expecting such a display of open affection from her. Weeks of distrust and bitterness had kept them apart, yet in that moment she had held him close—close enough for him to feel her heart beat in time with his and to know with a sweet assuredness that he had been forgiven. Instinct had inspired him to mirror her movements, drawing her even closer so he could bury his face into her shoulder, and in that moment he had finally felt at peace.

He had felt _happy_.

That was when Zuko had known he would never be able to return to Mai. Because he didn't hate the world; he had just never learnt how to appreciate it before. But now—now he understood what it meant to cherish life and warmth and all the silly foibles that made people human. Now he understood what it meant to love, and he realised that he didn't want to go back to embracing a heart of thorns. He didn't want his soul to bleed in pain anymore.

Mai was a Crimson Queen rose, and he knew that he had to let her go. He would always have to let her go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, I actually don't mind a well-written Mai/Zuko piece. I think, given time and a lot of hard work from both, the two of them could be happy together. Unfortunately, only fanon has been able to convince me thus. The way these two are portrayed together in canon just does not work for me. Hence, why I like Zutara. I'm all about balance (of the happy kind).


	5. Turtle Duck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An oldie from 2012. All the dialogue in italics has been quoted from the scene in "Zuko Alone" where Ursa and Zuko are feeding the turtle ducks.

__

_Hey, Mum. Want to see how Azula feeds turtle ducks?_

* * *

He's only trying to do what he must. It's not like he actually wants to hurt them. The Avatar is just a child and the other three would not have even warranted his attention were it for not their chosen travelling companion. So he makes sure he never lets his fire burn their tender flesh; he wants to frighten rather than wound, but sometimes he gets desperate and things get out of hand. Sometimes, it's just so easy to push his conscience aside and think like Azula, because he knows from experience that suffering and fear will get results, and he's been waiting so long. So terribly long.

He just wants to go home. He just wants his honour back.

But he is not Azula, and the pain he causes is like fire released into a strong wind, blowing back to burn him even as he drives his enemies into the ground. It turns all to ash and guilt. So much guilt.

Because he's only trying to do what he must, but he knows in his heart that he should be doing what is right.

* * *

__

__

_Stupid turtle duck. Why'd she do that?_

* * *

He doesn't understand why the Waterbender hates him so much. The others have all accepted him into the group, albeit in their own way, but not her. She can't be like Aang and Toph, who were willing to forgive him almost instantly. (Though sometimes he wishes Toph wouldn't show her affection for him quite so much, as he's still waiting for the collection of bruises on his arms to fade.) She can't be like Sokka, who was willing to put aside their past history if it meant Aang got to learn Firebending. (Though it certainly helped when the Water Tribe boy discovered that they shared a love for meat, swords and girls.) She can't even be like The Duke, Teo and Haru, who he knows are suspicious of him but still leave him alone for the sake of keeping the peace. (Though he thinks The Duke might be warming up to him if the kid's sudden inclination for following him around and asking to see his dao swords is anything to go by.)

No, Katara cannot forgive him. She remembers every bit of pain he has caused, every stupid mistake, and she lets him know it too. Every glare is like an ice-edged knife to his chest, every biting remark as hard and cold as her water whips. Her hate is like a constant presence at his side, more tangible than his own shadow, and it hurts more than he cares to admit. Because he still remembers the glowing cave. He still remembers the strange sensation of her touch, so gentle and unflinching, and how for a moment—just a moment—they had understood each other.

Perhaps that is why he's so desperate to earn her forgiveness, to prove to her that he is not the same boy who sided with Azula that day in the catacombs, even if he still has the scar. But she refuses to accept his olive branch. She spurns his help and mocks him at every opportunity, and somehow that hurts him even more when he sees the way she treats the others. She's so tender and patient with them, so protective. It's obvious that she cares for them deeply.

But not him. Never with him.

* * *

__

__

_That's what mums are like. If you mess with their babies, they'll bite you back._

* * *

He's lost count of the number of times she has thrown his past back in his face. It's a miracle he hasn't lost his temper as well, but he's beginning to understand why she is still upset with him now. It's in the way she fusses and frets over the little group, especially the younger ones, whenever they've done something wrong or particularly dangerous. It's in the way she smiles and tends to their every need as if it were the most natural thing in the world. But mostly it's in the way she glares at him for even daring to approach Aang, as if she's afraid he might suddenly send a fireball for the kid's head.

Because Katara is the mother of these children, and he hurt them a long time ago.

He understands that it will be a while before she trusts him again. He doesn't mind, though, because he remembers another mother who attacked him for threatening her baby. He remembers how he couldn't make the turtle duck listen to his pleas for forgiveness either, but that, little by little, he did manage to earn back her trust—not through grand words, but through simple actions.

Zuko knows that Katara is stubborn and can hold one hell of a grudge, but then he was never one to give up without a fight. It doesn't matter how long it takes, because someday he knows that he will earn her forgiveness.

Someday, he knows that he will be able to call her his friend.


	6. Stitching Up the Divide

It was the flow of angry muttering that first alerted Katara to his presence. Only one person had such a low, raspy voice, so she wasted no time in sneaking around the side of the pillar to discover what he was doing (because he was evil and untrustworthy, and she was certain that it had to be something horrible). Here would be her proof to show to the others that they couldn't trust the prince and that they should find a new firebending teacher for Aang; however, the sight that met her eyes turned out to be quite different.

Zuko sat hunched over on the ground, his pale skin gleaming with the golden hues of fire as the sun caressed his bare chest and arms. Katara was a little unnerved to find him shirtless—she didn't know why, but the sight of that lean, undeniably masculine body always made her feel a bit flushed. Frowning, she raised her eyes to his face, but his head was bowed so that his features were half-obscured by a veil of black. She could still see the scar, though: a hateful slash of red that had been burned onto the left side of his face, marking him for the banished prince that he was. Looking at it now just reminded her of the Crystal Catacombs—of the betrayal that had nearly cost them everything.

_"I thought you had changed!"_

_"I have changed!"_

Katara curled her hands into fists, and she was all ready to march over to where he was sitting and give him a piece of her mind when the prince let out a small hiss of pain. He cursed under his breath and sucked his finger, glaring at the mass of red cloth resting on his lap. It took her a moment to realise that it was his tunic, and that the reason he was now sucking his finger was because he had stabbed it with the needle he clutched in his other hand.

Her jaw dropped. Was Zuko—the same arrogant jerk who had once called her a peasant—actually trying to sew?

She watched as the firebender, still grumbling under his breath, bent back over his tunic and stuck the needle through the cloth, which he then tugged out the other side in a trail of crimson to seal up the hole that had been torn into the sleeve. The zigzagging mess of thread told her all too well of how he was succeeding.

"You're doing it wrong," Katara observed, stepping out from her hiding place.

Zuko flinched at the sound of her voice and stuffed the tunic behind his back. "W-what?" he stammered, looking a bit pink in the face.

Katara closed the distance between them and held out her hand. "Give it to me."

He stared at her warily, as if he thought she was going to attack him any second with one of her water whips. When she continued to look at him expectantly, he just sighed and, without meeting her gaze, handed over the tunic. Katara examined the stitches and was unable to suppress a snort of amusement when she saw how uneven and ugly they all were.

"You're not very good at this, are you?"

Zuko's blush darkened to a rich plum and he folded his arms and looked the other way. "It's not as if it was something I had to learn."

No, she thought with a wry smile. A Fire Nation prince probably had a whole hoard of servants to do his sewing for him. It was only while Zuko had been on the run in the Earth Kingdom that his clothing had ever looked tattered and dirty. Even then, she figured that General Iroh had probably done the mending.

"Why didn't you just come to me?" Katara asked, placing a hand on her hip. "It's what everyone else does."

Zuko gave her a blank look; he didn't need to speak for her to hear what he was thinking.

_Maybe it's because I'm not like everyone else. Maybe it's because you made it clear that you hate me._

Katara had to admit that if Zuko had come to her with the torn sleeve, she didn't know if she would have agreed to assist him. It bothered her that he had assumed what her reaction might be and so had just decided to not ask her at all; instead, he had hidden himself away in this alcove and butchered the fine cloth with his ugly, unskilled stitches. Because he thought she would be spiteful. Because she knew that she had been spiteful.

 _He deserved it_ , she argued, trying to justify her actions. _He nearly got Aang killed. He betrayed us. Me. I can't just forgive that._

In her heart, however, she knew that Zuko hadn't done anything wrong since he had joined them at the Western Air Temple. If anything, he had tried to help the group as much as was in his power. For some reason, that made her angry as well.

"Just give me the needle and thread," Katara said with an exasperated sigh, keeping her face turned away from him.

"You don't have to—"

"Do you want your tunic mended or not?" she demanded, throwing him a glare.

Zuko fell silent. He stared at her for a moment, and she was conscious of the way his gaze seemed to slide along the barriers of her heart and mind, trying to discover her motives. Then, with a shrug, he simply handed her the needle and thread.

"Thank you," Katara said with exaggerated politeness.

The prince said nothing and simply rested his elbows on his knees, watching her as she sat down next to him and began unpicking his stitches so that she could start afresh. The weight of his gaze was disquieting, like a touch of fire burning her skin. She ignored him and soon got lost in the rhythm of her work, focussing only on the endless loop of the needle as she sewed the torn cloth back together in tiny red stitches.

"You make it look so easy," Zuko said after a moment.

"That's because it is easy," Katara responded, not raising her eyes from her task.

"Not for everyone," he muttered. "Some people can never get it right. Some people just make things worse."

_Like me._

The unspoken words lingered between them, vulnerable and impossible to ignore. She glanced at his profile, but he had his head bowed again and all she could see was the angry colour of his scar burning through the strands of black in a mark that could never quite be hidden. Somehow, she got the sense that he had been referring to more than just mending a few rips in some cloth.

Katara let out a small breath. There were many things that she could have done in that moment. She could have shoved his past back in his face, as a part of her wanted to do. She could have forced him to see all of the mistakes that he had made—mistakes that had left deep chasms in her heart as wide as the Great Divide, and which could not be stitched together so easily. There had never been any threads of forgiveness for him, no needle to guide his fumbling attempts to prove to her that he was sorry. She hated him, distrusted him, but she also couldn't ignore the quiet distress that emanated from his hunched over form. In that moment, he was no longer Prince Zuko; he was just a boy who was upset. A boy who thought that he couldn't fix anything.

Silently, she placed the half-mended tunic on his lap. He stared at her in surprise, his golden irises overly bright.

"I'll show you how to stitch up the hole properly," Katara said, offering him the needle and thread. "Then you'll know how to do it yourself."

Zuko didn't respond at first. He just stared at her through those mismatched eyes of his, as if her simple gesture had stolen any sound or movement that he could have made. It was sad in a way, but then he pulled himself together and she felt his fingers brush against her palm as he accepted the sewing tools, surprising her for the warmth and gentleness of the contact.

"Thank you, Katara," he said quietly. "I would like that."


	7. Of Bugs and Slugs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: write a drabble/short story where Katara has to eat some sort of questionable Fire Nation food at Zuko's insistence.

It looked like a bug. A really, really big bug.

Katara picked up her fork and gave an experimental prod to the … _thing's_ shell. She was relieved that it didn't move, but that didn't change the fact that the so-called Fire Nation delicacy she was supposed to be eating looked like a vibrant orange version of a canyon crawler. A really, really ugly canyon crawler, with crispy antennas and curled up legs, and—oh spirits, how was she supposed to eat this thing? It was even worse than the food the swamp benders had tried to give her that one time, and even then she had settled for a possum-chicken kebab.

Her eyes shifted to Zuko, who was dressed in full Fire Lord regalia, and looking very formal as he sat at the head of the table. She noticed that he didn't have one of the bug things on his plate; instead, he was enjoying what looked like some kind of spicy noodle soup. Why couldn't she have spicy noodle soup?

"Hey, Zuko," Katara said in a low voice, leaning closer so she could speak to him without attracting too much attention. "Where can I get some of that soup?"

Zuko looked up from his plate, good eyebrow rising slightly. "You don't like your flame hopper?"

Katara scrunched up her nose. "I can't say I'm really in the mood for fried bug."

"Flame hoppers are a Fire Nation delicacy."

"So people keep telling me," she muttered, repressing a scowl.

Zuko met her gaze steadily. "That dish was specifically chosen to welcome you, our new Southern Water Tribe ambassador, to the Fire Nation. If you don't eat it, you'll be seen as offending me and every other person in this room."

Katara stared around at the party guests, all of whom had proven themselves to be strict followers of protocol (which really just meant that they would likely kick up a huge fuss should she do anything even the slightest bit untoward). Then her gaze fell back on Zuko, who simply raised his eyebrow a fraction higher, as if to ask what she was waiting for. The waterbender gulped and stared back down at her plate. Her bug-infested, horribly unappetising plate.

Reluctantly, she picked up her fork and dug it into the flame hopper's side. Juice squirted and dribbled out from the hole in an orange ooze; Katara had to cover her mouth to stop from gagging.

"I really don't think I can eat this," she said, placing her fork down and turning back to Zuko.

His mouth twitched, but then he returned to looking grim and serious. "You know what will happen if you don't."

Her stomach plummeted. Right. All of the Fire Nation officials would think that she was purposely trying to offend them, the Fire Lord, and probably their whole country and culture. Then they would all hate her, as they no doubt already did for the simple fact that she was Water Tribe. She sighed. It looked like there was nothing for it.

Cringing, and still trying not to gag, Katara picked up the flame hopper and took a bite out of its side. The taste was revolting, like rotten meat mixed with mango, and it had her pulling faces that would have put even Sokka to shame for the overt disgust she displayed. It was a relief when she finally managed to swallow the food; unfortunately, the taste still lingered.

"It's good, right?" Zuko prompted.

She didn't notice the glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes; instead, she smacked her lips a few times in distaste and then reached for her glass of water, making a noncommittal sound of agreement. When she finally summoned the courage to take her next bite, Zuko ducked his head and busied himself with his soup, though his shoulders were shaking slightly.

Katara ignored him and focussed on chewing as quickly as possible, for the taste was so much worse this time, as if she'd got an extra dose of rotten meat. It was repulsive. She could feel the juices sliding along her tongue and bits of shell getting stuck in her teeth, and—

She clamped a hand over her mouth, not quite able to muffle the retching sound that escaped her lips. To her surprise, Zuko let out a sudden bark of laughter; a sound that seemed to go on and on and on, like a mocking bell ringing in her head, until the normally dignified Fire Lord had to bury his face into his arm to stifle his amusement. Katara's cheeks flamed with pink, both out of anger and embarrassment, for now some of the other officials were chuckling as well, while the rest just seemed to be staring at her—and Zuko—in horror. No doubt they thought it was her fault that their Fire Lord had lost his usual poise and was now hunched over the table, shaking with laughter.

"Zuko," she hissed, dropping her fork none-too-gently on her plate and gripping his arm. "What is going on? And get a hold of yourself!" she added. "Everyone is staring at us!"

He raised his head and she was disgusted to see that there were traces of tears in his eyes. It wasn't _that_ funny!

"Y-you actually ate it," he managed to gasp out. "I didn't think you would, but—"

Her eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

A cheeky grin curved his mouth. "You know that time I came to visit you and Sokka in your village, and you insisted that I had to eat those stewed slug things?"

"They weren't slugs, they were stewed sea prunes, and—"

"Well, they looked and tasted like slugs to me."

There was a moment where they two of them just stared at each other, and then the pieces of puzzle at last seemed to fit together and Katara let out an angry gasp, pointing her finger at him in accusation. "You—you set this up, didn't you?"

He spread his hands in an appeasing gesture. "Hey, you made me eat Water Tribe slugs; I made you eat Fire Nation bugs. Now we're even."

Katara glowered. They most definitely were not even. Not at all. She would make him rue the day he tricked her into eating a flame hopper.

But first she would have to get rid of that awful taste.


	8. Pretty in Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: write a one-shot where one of the characters has to pretend to be of the opposite gender.
> 
> I should also state that certain elements of this story have been inspired by the video game _Final Fantasy VII_ —specifically, the part where Cloud has to dress up as a girl to make sure Aeris doesn't go into Don Corneo's place alone.

"Stop walking like that," Katara hissed.

"Like what?" Zuko demanded, throwing a glare at a particularly leery-eyed gentleman.

"Like you're the Fire Lord and you've come to conquer the world with your big, stompy steps!"

"I'm not trying to—this is how I walk, Katara," he snapped, looking a bit flushed.

"Sure, but right now you are not the Fire Lord. You are Zhu, the daughter of a tea merchant, and you cannot be seen stomping about like some warrior on a battlefield. You have to—"

"Float," Zuko interrupted with a sigh. "I know, I know. I'm _floating_."

Or at least he took a few steps that were light and graceful, making it look as if he were skimming the surface of the ground, but then his stride widened, he began to plant his feet more firmly with each step, and even the fan he kept raised to cover half of his face couldn't disguise the raw strength captured in every motion of his body. Katara sighed and shook her head.

"This is never going to work," she mumbled.

"I told you it was a stupid idea," he retorted, scowling at her from behind the cover of his fan. "Or have you forgotten that this was all your doing. It's not like I wanted to become Miss Zhu."

"You wouldn't have had to if you had just let me handle this. You know I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"Right. I should have just let you go into what is essentially a whore house on your own, never mind the fact that one of the most vicious criminals from the Fire Nation underground runs the place. Oh, and let's not forget that he has an army of powerful benders at his bidding." Zuko's voice took on a tone of false brightness. "You're right, Katara, that sounds like a great idea. Let me just sign my death warrant with your father and brother while I'm at it."

Katara rolled her eyes, just as she had done the first time when he had told her that her 'brilliant plan' was foolish, dangerous, and that she was not going anywhere near Guangyu alone. "Well, you don't have to get so snippy about it," she muttered.

"I'm not getting snippy!"

"You are too! You've been a complaining grump from the moment you put on that dress, and need I remind you that you agreed that this was the only way we could get into Guangyu's establishment without having our covers blown." She pointed her fan at him as if it were a weapon. "So suck it up, Miss Zhu, and keep floating."

Zuko gave her his best evil eye, but he picked up the thick folds of his dress so that he wouldn't trip and resumed the mincing walk that Katara had taught him. It was humiliating, but then this whole day had been one big mortifying mess. He knew that the disguise was necessary—only females were allowed an unquestioned free pass into Guangyu's establishment—but he was certain that things would not have been so bad had Katara and the old crone they'd been staying with not taken to transforming him into a woman quite so enthusiastically …

_"It's fortunate you have such long, lovely hair," the crone said, running her fingers through the black strands. "No need for cheap wigs, and if we put it in a style like this"—she brought a part of his hair forward, allowing it to half-veil the left side of his face—"we can cover up most of your scar. Now we just the put the rest of your hair up into a loose bun, like so, and finish it all off with a red peony." She arranged the flower above his left ear, making sure it would not fall off, and then stepped back with a satisfied smile. "Perfect!"_

_"Oh, that does look nice!" Katara exclaimed, then stood up from her seat. "Let me do the make-up now!"_

_Zuko glared at the waterbender. "Wait a minute. You didn't say anything about make-up."_

_"How else are we supposed to make you look like a woman? You don't want the guards to turn you away at the door, do you?"_

_He opened and closed his mouth a few times and then sighed, hunching his shoulders in defeat. "Fine."_

_She grinned and then leaned over him with her little kit. The next few minutes were spent being told to close his eyes, then open his eyes, then part his lips, then turn his face that way—no, that way!—and all the while he had a perfect view of Katara's cleavage. Not that he was looking. It was just rather hard not to notice the soft curves overflowing from her bodice when her chest was directly in his line of vision. Maybe he should have stopped her from buying that dress, but then he wasn't her brother, and she had just been so stubborn, and—_

_"There!" Katara said, stepping back. "Now you just need to change clothes."_

_Zuko got to his feet with a sigh and slipped off his robe, standing in just his undergarments while Katara helped him into his feminine attire. As the Fire Lord, he was used to having people dress him, but that was in warrior's armour or his formal robes (which had about five different layers and were impossible to get on by himself). Those people had also been servants who were trained to slide silk across skin and do up ties as inconspicuously as possible. Katara had no such training, and he was deeply aware of every brush of her fingers, every little inhale and exhale. It was a relief when she finally gave him some space, telling him that he was ready and could now look in the mirror._

_Dread pooling in his stomach, Zuko walked over to the mirror and—_

_"No one is to know about this," he said firmly, turning away from his reflection with his cheeks burning. "No one."_

_Katara's lips curved into a smile. "No need to be embarrassed, Zuko. You make a very pretty female. I knew that red dress would look good on you with your dark hair and pale complexion."_

_"Ah, but he is missing one thing," the crone interjected._

_"Wha—" he began, when she suddenly stuffed two mangos down the front of his dress._

_"That's better."_

_Zuko just groaned. "Seriously, Katara. No one is to know about this. Ever. I'll know if you tell them, and I will hunt you down and kill you."_

_"Relax," she said, waving off his threats with a dismissive hand. "Your secret is safe with me. Now let's get going, Miss Zhu!" She shoved a painted, ivory fan into his hands. "I do believe you are ready to face the guards."_

And so they had, appearing before the warriors in all their feminine glory under the guise of being 'gifts' for Guangyu. Zuko didn't think he would ever be able to live down being told that he was 'quite the looker', even if the guards had showed more interest in Katara, but then he had not counted on Guangyu deciding that strapping, rather muscular females with pale gold eyes were just his thing. Unfortunately, it turned out that the leader of the rebel gang also had wandering fingers.

Zuko stood rigid as the older man circled around him like a predatory feline, smiling and making satisfied noises every now and then. There were bender warriors surrounding the chamber, and since the whole point of this mission was to get Guangyu alone so that they could get the desired information out of him without sounding the alarm, the young Fire Lord had known that he could not show any signs of aggression, no matter what happened. It was just so very difficult when the large, hairy man kept licking his lips and running his fingers up and down Zuko's arms, as if the firebender were some kind of sweet delicacy that he wanted to gobble.

"Such a strong woman," Guangyu observed, now moving his hand down to Zuko's waist. "I do like my women strong. Means they have a bit of fight to 'em."

Zuko made a noncommittal sound and then looked towards Katara, pleading with his eyes for help. That was when he felt a meaty hand grip his arse. He let out a yelp and almost dropped into a bending stance, ready to retaliate with an inferno of indignation, but then Katara caught his eye and shook her head in a sharp gesture. Frustrated, Zuko forced himself to stay calm, though he wanted nothing more than to punch the idiot man in his stupid, hairy face.

"Mm, nice and firm," Guangyu commented, indulging in another squeeze. "Yes, I think I'm going to have lots of fun with you."

A hint of smoke curled free of Zuko's nostrils, but he managed to keep control of his temper and instead brought the fan up to cover the lower half of his face, taking a step back from the gang leader. "Now, now, Guangyu," he said in a higher pitched but still raspy voice, "don't you think you should wait until we're alone for that?"

Guangyu let out a chuckle. "No need to be shy, darling."

Zuko evaded the grabby hands that reached for him. "Oh, but I really must insist," he said, repressing the urge to gag even as he forced a giggle. "How can we enjoy ourselves with all of these men watching?"

The gang leader paused and stroked his beard, eyeing Zuko closely. "Well, if you're that eager to be alone, sugarplum, I suppose I can let you have your way just this once." He looked over his shoulder at his guards. "Leave us!"

The bender warriors bowed and then started filing out of the room.

"What about me?" Katara asked, exchanging a quick glance with Zuko.

"Don't worry, Blue Eyes," Guangyu said with a leering wink. "You'll get your turn."

Zuko repressed the urge to gag again, but then the hairy man was glancing back at him and he plastered a smile on his face, fluttering his fan to and fro. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the last of the benders and Katara passing through the doors. She met his gaze for a moment, looking almost apologetic, but then the doors slammed shut and Zuko found himself alone with Guangyu. There was a pause as they both stared at each other.

"Looks like I get you all to myself," Zuko observed, still hiding his face behind the fan.

"Looks like you do," Guangyu murmured, moving closer so that Zuko could smell the alcohol and spices wafting from the man's breath. "And now, my pretty one. Now it's time for us to really heat things up."

"I completely agree," Zuko said in his normal voice, and then he snapped his fan shut and punched the man in the nose.

Guangyu let out a cry of pain and stumbled to the ground, blood streaming down his face from where the bone had been broken, and all the while swearing bloody murder. Zuko was on him in a second, straddling the man's hips and wrestling with him to keep him pinned to the ground before he finally managed to knock him out.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Zuko turned at the sound of the voice to see Katara leaning against the door, watching him with a smile. Two guards lay unconscious at her feet. That had certainly been quick.

"You know damn well this isn't what it looks like," he snapped, getting off Guangyu's inert form and standing back to his feet.

"I know," she agreed, and her smile widened a fraction, "but I do find it funny that you came here to protect me, only to end up being harassed yourself. I never knew you were such a charmer, Miss Zhu."

Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose. "Please, just shut up."

She laughed. "If only Sokka and Toph could see you now. Just think what they would have to say."

His eyes narrowed. "They are never allowed to know about this, Katara," he growled, repeating his earlier words. "Not ever. Once we're through with Guangyu, we're just going to pretend like this never happened and that will be the end of it."

"That's okay," she responded with an affable smile. "Even if I don't speak of it, I'll still be able to cherish the memories of seeing you, the great Fire Lord, dressed up as Miss Zhu in your pretty red dress."

Zuko glowered at her. "I hate you."

Katara grinned. "No, you don't."

He sighed. No, he really didn't, and that was the problem. Only for her sake would he have ever agreed to such a humiliating scheme, and now he knew he was going to live with that mortification for the rest of his life.

Women. Can't live with them, can't live without them, and he would make damn sure after this that he would never have to be one of them either. He'd suffered enough for one day.


	9. Healed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: write a short story in which Zuko's scar is healed.

Katara had not known if she could heal the scar. It was a risk to even try, for she understood that the vial only held enough water from the Spirit Oasis for one healing session. Logic said that she should save the water for something important, something more than just an unsightly mark on a young man's face, yet as she looked at the prince standing opposite her—dirty, bruised, _scarred_ —she knew in her heart that this was important. Somehow, her impulsive offer could change everything.

She closed the last of the distance between them and met his gaze as she held the vial in her hand, asking for permission. He stared at her for a long moment, a myriad of emotions flickering. Then he simply bowed his head and closed his eyes. It was a quiet act of surrender, and she was conscious of the way her heart thumped against her ribs as she reached out to touch his scar—to touch _him_ for the first time.

He didn't flinch when her fingertips made contact with scarred flesh, but his breathing sharpened when her thumb brushed against his lips in an accidental caress. Warm. He was so warm, and the twisted, puckered flesh felt so strange under her fingers: rough yet soft at the same time, like dragon scales made of silk. It was a bad scar, wounding deep into the tissue and had probably dulled a lot of his nerves. It skewed his left eye into a permanent glare, even when closed, and she saw that the discoloured skin reached all the way up into his hairline and had burnt his ear into some warped, crumpled thing.

She'd never seen anything so ugly. She'd never seen anything so sad. Her heart ached to make it right.

Without a word, she opened the delicate vial and allowed the water to flow out and wrap around her hand like a glove, where it glowed a silvery blue against his red, disfigured flesh. A deep breath, and then she called upon her energy and let it merge with his in a fusion of water and fire, let herself slip away into a trance of instinct where every chi meridian in his body was mapped out under her palm, guiding her to the right path.

 _Heal_ , she whispered in her heart, feeling the water connect with the scarred tissue and damaged nerves. _Become whole again._

Nothing happened. Her mouth went dry with panic, but then Zuko stiffened a fraction and she saw the eyelashes on his right eye flutter against his cheek as if he were fighting to stay calm. That was when she felt the overwhelming rush of response from the twisted path that joined with his scar, like a floodgate being released. Energy flowed through her in a dizzying surge, more powerful than she had ever experienced. It was as if she were cradling a gnarled, beating heart in her hand. There was so much life, so much pain. She didn't know where to begin, but her instincts showed her how to smooth out the contorted roots, how to mend the fractured ties of his nerves and command scarred tissue to envelop itself in a new skin—one that was smooth and pale and without blemish. It was a slow and draining process, for the scar was years old and had buried itself deep into his core of identity, but she knew that she could not turn back now. She had to keep going.

Zuko trembled slightly as the healing water spread further under her guidance, working its way into his damaged eye to unseal the half-closed lids and encourage dark lashes to grow from newly formed skin. It was a strange sensation, for the healing light of the Spirit Oasis water blinded her to most of the transformation taking place, but she could still feel it as if it were her own face being healed: feel the tiny hairs breaking forth like spring buds to arch and curve above his left eye, painting a dark strip that was identical to the one on his right; feel the way his ear slowly uncurled from its crumpled state and knitted together new flesh so that it was a perfect mirror of its counterpart. She could feel everything, and it was with a shaky breath that she let the last of the Spirit Oasis water absorb into his skin.

Katara stepped back, dropping her hand to her side. "It's done," she said with a tired smile.

Zuko didn't move at first, but then slowly, tentatively, he reached up to touch his face. A shudder went through him the moment his fingertips made contact with his cheek, and then he was touching what should have been the disfigured outline of his left eye, his eyebrow, his ear. A choked little sound escaped his lips and he turned away from her, his whole body trembling.

"Hey," she said in alarm, taking a step forward and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

The dark veil of his hair shifted as he looked at her, but this time there was no crimson slash to skew his features, no mark of dishonour peeping out through the strands of black. He was whole. He was beautiful.

"It's gone," he whispered, almost as if he didn't dare to believe it could be true, as if he thought that any moment this dream would be snatched from him. "It's really gone, isn't it?"

She nodded and her heart ached for the way he touched his face again, almost in wonder, like a child discovering a new texture that was both strange and wonderful. There was such vulnerability in the small smile that curved his lips, such hope and peace. Katara knew in that moment that she would never regret using the Spirit Oasis water on the prince, for she had done more than just heal his scar. She had healed his soul.

Pale gold locked with blue, and he opened his mouth to speak when part of the wall was blasted away, sending jagged bits of rock whistling past them and blinding her vision. When the dust had cleared, Aang and the old man she had often seen travelling with Zuko—Iroh, she thought his name was—were standing with them in the catacombs, lit up by the unearthly green light of the crystals.

"Aang!" she cried, rushing towards the airbender and throwing her arms around his neck.

Dimly, she was aware of Iroh doing the same to Zuko, but then there was a gasp. She broke away from Aang to see the old general staring up at his nephew with wide eyes, taking in the unscarred cheek and perfectly symmetrical features.

"Zuko," Iroh said with open awe, "how—your scar, it's—"

"Gone," Aang finished, also staring at the prince in wonder.

Zuko shifted self-consciously and once more touched his hand to his face as if to reassure himself that the skin had not reverted back to its twisted, ugly state. "I—" he began, and then just shook his head, clearly at a loss.

Katara thought she could understand. It was so much for him to take in at once. She hadn't known the details of how he had got the scar, but he had told her enough for her to realise that having it healed was a big deal. A mark of shame, he had called it. A mark of the banished prince, and now it was gone. Now he was free to move on and forget the hurtful past that had shaped his life, his face, his very identity. Or so she wanted to believe.

Aang's gaze flickered to hers. "It was you, wasn't it?"

She nodded. "I used the Spirit Oasis water on his scar. I didn't know if it would work, but I had to try." Her voice softened. "I'm glad I did now."

Zuko gave her a swift glance, and for a moment their eyes met, tangling in a confusing whisper of unspoken words. She saw expressions of gratitude and apology reflected in his golden irises, but there was also something else—something that made her heart quicken and her stomach flutter in strange plummets and soars. Then Iroh was speaking again and the fragile connection was gone. Zuko was averting his gaze, looking uncertain, and Aang was tugging on her wrist, telling her that they had to go, and suddenly everything was passing her by in a blur.

The next time she saw the prince, he was unleashing flames of dangerous beauty and fighting with a ferocity that she had never seen in him before. But he did not attack her, and he did not attack Aang. He stood by their side as their ally, even though his opponent was his own sister. Katara knew in that moment that her instincts had been right. Her impulsive offer had changed everything, and when they later left the cave together, Zuko still had the unscarred features to prove it.


	10. Love Amongst the Catacombs (And Bad Haiku)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Advocaat, I know this birthday gift is a million years late and I am very sorry for that. (Alas, my humour muse turned into a languishing Victorian lady after I lost my weekend spot on your couch.) Still, I'm finally getting back into the groove, which means silly!Zutara offerings for you. This one comes with an extra side of crack because I was sleep drunk when I wrote it, but hope you enjoy!

_Big rocks are falling_

_Should have brought an earthbender_

_Ghost Lords can piss off_

* * *

The catacombs under the Fire Nation palace are a bit dark and creepy, even with Zuko's flames for light. Katara doesn't like the way their shadows follow them in grotesque shapes or how the fine hairs on the back of her arms and neck keep prickling. She can't help imagining centuries of ghostly Fire Lords all glaring at her like, "How dare thou enterest this most sacred and secretest of places, oh heathen waterbender! Suffer our ghostly chills!" Or something like that.

She quickens her pace to catch up to Zuko. He's dressed in his Fire Lord regalia, five-pronged headpiece glinting in the flame light. "You really think we'll find it here?" she asks.

"If it's anywhere, it's going to be in here. The Fire Lords hid all items they confiscated and important stuff in these catacombs."

More prickles along her arms and neck. She scowls at the air. (Because telling the old ghostly lords to stop it would make her look crazy.) "Well, I hope we find it soon. That—"

Something rumbles and groans. The two exchange a glance, then _BOOM!_ There goes the ceiling crumbling and tumbling. Zuko's arms come around her, tucking her into his chest as he dives with her to escape a crushing, gory end. (A part of her thinks she should be doing the body shielding since he's the Fire Lord and all, but it's too late to protest.) His back takes the brunt of their fall, yet it's she who ends up on her back, him on top of her. Rocks clatter and fall all around them, stirring up clouds of dust and little bits of grit. Nothing hits her. He's got her cradled close, taking all the nicks and hits himself.

When everything stills and the dust dissipates, he pulls back enough to meet her gaze. "You okay?"

She is ashamed to admit she blushes. He's pretty much straddling her and his face is very close. Also, he's stupidly attractive these days. Like really, stupidly attractive. It's no wonder being near him like this makes the monorail of logic in her brain derail off to Pervy Fantasy Land.

(In her fantasy, he kisses her most wonderfully and lets her feel him up a little …

…

What? His chest his very nice, okay? She knows. She's seen it bare.)

"Katara?"

She blinks and realises she's been perv—ahem, _staring_ at him too long. "Yep. Totally fine. You protected me good. Woo."

Her palm immediately wants to find her forehead and slap it hard.

Woo?

Woo?

Maybe she should have let the rocks bury her.

"I'm glad you're not hurt," he says.

(She is so eternally grateful he does not mention the "woo". The "woo" shall be left to die and rot in these catacombs forever if she has her way.)

"What about you?" she asks. "No injuries I need to heal?"

"I'm good."

He gets off her (boo) and grabs her hand, pulling her to her feet. They both face the cave in.

"What do you think caused it?" she muses.

"Well, we are underground so … maybe it just weakened enough to collapse."

Her hand brushes his arm. "What if someone did it on purpose?"

"No one even knows we're here."

Fair point.

Both their expressions turn to masks of horror. Oh no! No one knows they're here!

"You think people might have heard the cave in and will come check?" she asks hopefully.

"Sure …"

Oh geez. Even she heard that ellipsis.

* * *

_Time passes so slow_

_Plundering the Ghost Lords' stash_

_Fire Lord Lightweight_

* * *

They wait for what feels like hours. No one comes to save them. This is bad. Even with an attractive friend at her side, it is not fun to be trapped in catacombs haunted by Ghost Lords. Fortunately, Zuko discovers the chamber they're stuck in has a whole stack of wine stored in it. Unfortunately, (at least for him) he's a total lightweight. Also, he's an affectionate, sloppy drunk and keeps sprawling all over her.

"Kataaaaraaaaa." He flops against her, arms looping around her waist. "My friend. My Katara friend." He nuzzles into her neck and seems to breathe in deeply a few times.

No, wait. That seems more like—

"Are you _sniffing_ me?"

He smiles dopily at her. "You smell nice. I've always liked your Katara smell. It's nice. You're nice."

Heat warms her cheeks. "Oh."

(But dang did he need to find a new adjective.)

"Can I tell you a secret?" he whispers, sitting up more.

"Okay."

She's not sure why she whispers as well, but it seems fitting.

"I really like—"

Her heart thumps faster. Is he going to say it? Is this the moment where all her fantasies come true?

"—turtleducks."

Her jaw drops and the light dies in her eyes. "What?"

"But don't tell anyone, okay?"

"Zuko, that's not even a secre—"

"Shhhhh." He mushes his finger to her lips. "You can't tell anyone."

She stares at him for a long beat and settles for taking a hearty swig of wine. She is too sober for this.

* * *

_Hunger is a pain_

_When you are trapped underground_

_Is this romantic?_

* * *

"I'm hungry," he says, half sprawled on her lap. "Are you hungry?"

"There's no food. We only have wine." She waggles the bottle, drops sloshing everywhere from the awkward angle she's holding it. She may be more than a little drunk now.

He practically slithers his way up her body like a hot boy snake, pausing when his nose is almost touching hers. "Katara, if we get stuck down here forever, I just want you to know it's okay. I won't eat you even if I am really, really, really hungry."

"Um … thanks?"

"But if you get really, really, really hungry, I guess it's okay if you eat me. I mean, I don't really want to be eaten, but I do want you to live, because you're my Katara and you are very important to me. So you have my permission to eat me, okay?"

Maybe she's drunker than she realises, because being granted permission by the boy she likes to become a cannibal and eat him has never seemed so sweet. "Aww, thanks."

He smiles. "You're welcome."

"But I don't think your nation will like it if I eat you. You're the Fire Lord. They'll be really upset and maybe think it was my plan all along to bring you down here for secret Fire Lord chomping, and then there'll be another war, and then everything will be bad again. So maybe it's best if you just eat me."

"No, no, no. I can't do that. I won't ever eat you even if I'm really, really, really hungry."

"Then what do we do?"

He pouts before brightening. "I know! _You_ can be Fire Lord!"

She sees no problem with this solution. (This should probably worry her. There are many, many things wrong with this solution.) He fumbles a little as he removes the headpiece and fixes it to her hair.

"There," he declares. "Fire Lord Katara."

She gives a bow, then throws a smug look around the chamber. "Take that, Ghost Lords. I'm the Fire Lord now."

"Huh?"

"Nothing. Just talking to the Ghost Lords."

He blinks a few times. "Okay."

Her brow furrows. "But, you know, I don't want to eat you. I'd much rather us just escape here together."

"Me too, but you still have my permission if it comes to that."

She smiles and this time it's she who flops and snuggles against him. He really is so sweet.

* * *

_Tell me your secrets_

_But don't make it turtleducks_

_Seriously, don't._

* * *

"Hey, Katara, can I tell you a secret?"

"Is it that you really like turtleducks?"

"No."

"Are you sure? Because you said that last time, as well as the time before that."

"It has nothing to do with turtleducks."

"Okay. Tell me."

He once more sits up and looks deeply into her eyes. "I think I really like—"

Her breathing stills in anticipation.

"—cabbages."

She gives him her flattest stare. "Why are you like this?"

He just smiles. "Wanna know why?"

"No."

He tells her anyway.

"That's it. I'm decreeing a new law as Fire Lord."

"What?"

"You can't tell me any more secrets."

He actually pouts.

"I mean it, Zuko. No more secrets."

"Can I tell you just one more?"

She narrows her eyes at him for a long moment. When he simply looks at her, all golden eyes and sleepy-drunk cuteness, she huffs and folds her arms across her chest. "Fine. _One_ more."

He takes her face in his hands. Oh, this is new. (Her heart flutters and stutters, even though she's sure he's about to say something stupid like he really likes platypus bears.)

"I really want—"

Here it comes. The crushing blow, the puncture to her hopes and romantic dreams.

"—to kiss you."

There, she knew it would be something dumb and—

Wait, what?

Her eyes are huge and all she can do is stare at this dumb boy with his dumb cute face. "C-come again?"

"I want to kiss you."

Oh wow. _Wow_. He really went there. Much wow.

"Katara?"

She blinks. "That's nice."

Her palm, yet again, itches to slap her forehead. She. Did. Not. Just. Say. That.

This is worse than the woo. This is so much worse than the woo. She might even be a Ghost Lord now, because her spirit just departed her body from all the horror and shame.

Zuko tilts his head. "I mean … I do hope it's nice to you …"

"IhavenoideawhyIsaidthatandpleasejustkissme."

"Huh?"

She yanks him forward by his robe and mashes her lips against his. (Because who knows what might come out of her mouth if she tries to make words again?) The kiss is clumsy and a little too mashy, but once all the jitters and OH MY SPIRITS WE'RE ACTUALLY DOING THIS starts to calm, it becomes just as wonderful as what she imagined in her fantasies. His lips are soft and his tongue is a caress of velvet tingles. In fact, everything is pretty much pleasurable tingles. (She thinks she could get addicted to kissing him.)

He pulls back and smiles like some dopey idiot on a high. It's cute … until he slumps into her chest and doesn't move again.

"Hey." She prods his back.

Prods him again.

Keeps on prodding.

Soft snores reach her ears.

(This time her palm does meet her forehead.) 

* * *

_With this bad haiku_

_There is but one thing to say_

_This is omake_

* * *

Zuko stands with her on the palace balcony and blushes a little when their eyes meet. "So …"

"So …"

"About what happened in the catacombs."

"Which part? A lot of things happened. You even made me Fire Lord for a while."

The colour darkens on his unscarred cheek. "I mean when we kissed."

"Oh."

Her face is hot. She's probably blushing just as bad as him. (In truth, she'd thought he'd forgotten about that bit.)

"I just … I have to ask: did you only kiss me because you were drunk?"

"No."

He looks at her with hope in his eyes. It's enough to spur her into being brave.

"Can I tell you a secret?" she says, taking a step closer to him.

He nods.

"I really like you, Zuko."

"You do?"

"Yes, and right now I'd like to kiss you again if that's okay with you."

He smiles. "That would be okay."

Fortunately, this time he doesn't pass out.


	11. The Omashu Conundrum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the Valentine's Day Challenge (I think 2012 or 2013).
> 
> Prompt: Write an AtLA or LoK version of Valentine's Day. Bonus points if you can work in different traditions for each of the nations, or, in the case of Republic City in LoK, some kind of blend of the different traditions. Any pairing goes - fanon or canon - or you can feature no pairing at all if you want to go the "Down With Love" route.

Zuko rubbed the base of his neck, feeling a little out of place amidst the brightly dressed revellers and falling confetti. He had come to Omashu to meet with King Bumi to arrange a trading agreement between the kingdoms, but, as chance would have it, his arrival also happened to fall upon Omashu Day. Contrary to popular opinion, the festival had nothing to do with the city's independence from Ba Sing Se, but instead was—

"The day of love!" Sokka exclaimed, looping an arm around Zuko's shoulders. "Isn't this great? We get to enjoy good food, good wine, and I've never seen so many beautiful women together in one place, all ready to bestow a man with a flirtatious smile in the hopes of finding her Shu. It's like one big—"

There was the sound of a throat being cleared. Sokka winced and removed his hand from Zuko's shoulder, turning to face the auburn-haired warrior who was now standing beside him with her arms crossed and her foot tapping on the ground.

"Suki," Sokka said, giving a sheepish smile. "I was just telling Zuko all about—"

"All those beautiful women who keep fluttering their fans at you?" Suki interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "Perhaps you should focus on the woman whose fans can have you flat on the ground in less than three seconds, and I'm not talking about the head over heels in love kind of fall."

Sokka gulped. Zuko patted his friend on the back, silently wishing him luck, and headed in the opposite direction, not wanting to linger when every instinct told him that a couple's argument was about to happen. He could still hear Sokka trying to explain to Suki that she was the only Oma for him when King Bumi called for everyone's attention—or, rather, the old man created a giant rock megaphone for himself and ordered the people in the square to shut their clam-traps so that he could tell them a story, all topped with a healthy sprinkle of his snorting laughter.

Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb. He didn't think he would ever get used to the Omashu king's, uh, _unique_ personality.

"Alright there, Fire Lord?"

Said royalty paused, lowering his hand to see a young woman watching him over the top of her fan, which she held up to cover the lower half of her face. Her dark hair was pulled back into an elaborate bun with two ornate pins holding it in place, and she was wearing a high-collared dress of sea-green that fit in perfectly with the colourful, Earth Kingdom crowd. Not that she was a resident of Omashu; he knew as soon as he met her smiling blue eyes that he was looking at the other Water Tribe sibling, and one of his closest friends.

"Katara," he greeted, inclining his head. "I didn't realise you'd come as well. Last I heard, you were at the Foggy Swamp teaching the waterbenders healing."

"I was," she admitted, snapping her fan shut, "but you know Aang and Sokka; they can't resist a party. The moment they got wind of a festival going down in Omashu, it seemed imperative that all of us should attend. Sokka even managed to pull Suki away from her warriors, though I think Toph only came because she wanted to have a rematch with Bumi and show off her metalbending."

Zuko ignored the little sting of jealousy that burned in his stomach. Ever since he had become Fire Lord three years ago, it had been difficult for him to meet up with his old war friends. Mai and Ty Lee had gone off on their own adventures. Aang was busy being the Avatar and looking for airbenders and flying bisons. Sokka was usually to be found at the South Pole, but would sometimes visit Suki, who was back to training her warriors on Kyoshi Island. (Though the rumour was they would soon both be residing in the South Pole.) Toph was busy with her metalbending school, and then there was Katara, who spent most of her time teaching waterbending in both her tribe and other places around the world. Zuko, of course, was stuck in the Fire Nation. Like he always was. Alone. Just doing his Fire Lord thing, and not receiving any special invites to Earth Kingdom love festivals.

His shoulders slumped. Alright, so he was upset. He just didn't understand why his friends hadn't bothered to invite him to the reunion. Sure, he thought love festivals were ridiculous and a waste of time, and sure he had ended up coming anyway, but they hadn't known that.

"Are you okay?" Katara asked, staring at him in concern.

Zuko realised that some of his feelings must have showed in his expression. He sighed and decided to tell her the truth, knowing that she would pester him until he did regardless. To his surprise, she let out a giggle and had to cover her mouth with her hand.

"What?" he demanded, folding his arms across his chest. "This isn't funny, you know!"

"I know, I know," she said hastily. "I'm not laughing at the fact you feel left out. It's just"—she giggled again—"um, well, Bumi and Aang decided the only way to get you to attend the festival was if they said it was really for a trade agreement, so ..."

Zuko smacked his palm against his forehead. Brilliant. His friends thought he was such an antisocial workaholic that they had decided to mask his invite as something relevant to the Fire Nation. The fact that Zuko probably would have said no had the invitation simply been for Omashu Day—because he was busy and had no time for silly festivals, not because he didn't want to spend time with his friends—was not lost on him either.

Katara rubbed his arm in a soothing gesture, though her eyes continued to sparkle with amusement. "Sorry, Zuko. We didn't mean to trick you, but—"

"It's fine," he said, shaking his head. "A little humiliating, but fine."

A smile curved her lips. "Well, I know that I'm happy to see you again. It's been much too long."

He barely got a chance to react before she was enfolding him in her arms. Zuko's heart quickened as her body pressed right up against his (those curves had definitely not been so prominent the last time they'd hugged like this), but then she let him go and he was able to breathe again.

 _She's your friend_ , he reminded himself. _Get a grip_.

Katara, quite oblivious to the war going on between the firebender's mind and body, simply tugged him down by his hand to sit with her on one of the stone benches. There wasn't much point trying to do anything else with King Bumi still waffling on about the legend of Oma and Shu, which was supposed to be very sad and romantic. Unfortunately, the earthbender king kept snorting with laughter at odd moments and making bad jokes, so the result was more comical than the epitome of tragic romance.

She frowned as the king got to the part where Oma was mourning the loss of her lover. "This is terrible," she said, sounding quite put out.

"You're telling me," Zuko responded flatly. "And here I thought only the Ember Island Players knew how to butcher a story so shamelessly."

"I suppose we should have seen it coming. This is Bumi we're talking about. He wouldn't have been able to resist making the badgermoles tell blind jokes."

"Or have Oma searching for her 'beloved Shu' on the battlefield, only to have people think she was talking about an actual shoe."

There was a pause as they both digested this most blasphemous of additions.

"Yeah, I think I'm going to need a drink," Zuko stated, standing up. Anything to distract him from the awfulness that was King Bumi's tale. "You want one?"

Katara nodded, most emphatically. He laughed and made his way towards the table where two jugs of wine had been set out and poured two glass. It was a mission getting back through the crowd without spilling the contents, but somehow he managed it. He sat back next to her and they clinked their glasses together with a hushed cheers.

Zuko's brow creased as the liquid slid along his tongue. It didn't taste like any wine he'd had before and—

And why was everyone staring at him like that?

Katara clutched her cup tightly on her lap, looking a bit pink in the cheeks. "Zuko, what is going on?"

"I have no idea," he murmured, "but I think that—"

"Aha!" King Bumi exclaimed, using his earthbending to propel himself so that he landed directly in front of the two. "Perfect timing! It seems we have our first proposal to celebrate Omashu Day!"

Zuko blinked. "What?"

"You drank the honey mead together," Bumi explained, grinning at each of them in turn. "In Omashu, that means you're now engaged."

Katara's blush darkened to a rich plum. "Engaged as in _engaged_ engaged?"

"That's right!" Bumi affirmed with a cackle.

Zuko exchanged a startled glance with his supposed fiancée, then looked back at the king. "No," he said flatly. "No way. For one thing, we didn't even know about the tradition, and—"

"And nothing," Bumi interjected, shoving his face right up in Zuko's and peering at him through one squinty eye. "Tradition is tradition, and you drank the special promise wine together." He leaned back, giving another hacking cackle. "That's what happens when you don't pay attention to other people's customs."

Katara stood up, planting her hands on her hips. "Now wait just a minute. You can't just—"

But whatever she was going to say was cut off as Bumi raised his chin, shifting the ground underneath Katara's feet and sending her plummeting straight into the unsuspecting Fire Lord. Zuko got a brief glimpse of wide blue eyes, and then her face—no, her lips—were colliding with his in a clumsy kiss, even as his hands instinctively gripped her waist to stop her from knocking them both to the ground. It wasn't at all pleasant … until the pressure on his lips became more curious and exploratory than a simple matter of gravity taking its course. Naturally, Zuko decided that he should respond in kind.

"Well, that settles that," Bumi said, dusting off his hands. He turned to face the rest of the crowd. "Who's next?"


	12. Of Stalking and Shovels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one-shot was written as a birthday gift for Advocaat. She wanted Zutara and a shovel to be featured, which is just asking for cracktastic humour (especially when the author is sleep drunk while writing).

Katara had always believed herself to be an intuitive person. Sokka might go on and on about his instincts, but she just _knew_ things. And right now she knew that Zuko was up to no good. For one thing, he was the (banished) prince of the Fire Nation and had sneaky, untrustworthy jerk written all over him. For another, he was carrying a shovel. Only suspicious people carried shovels.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, stepping out from the shadowed alcove.

Zuko flinched as if he'd been burnt and tried to hide the shovel behind his back. "Uh, I was just, um, taking a walk."

Katara raised one eyebrow. "At this time of night?"

"I couldn't sleep," he said with a shrug.

They stared at each other for a long moment—or rather she glared at him while he tried to look innocent—and then she just rolled her eyes and pointed at a spot above his left. "I can see the shovel, idiot. The handle is sticking up over your shoulder."

He made a choked sound and tried to cover the shovel more with his body (as if that could somehow wipe her memory of what she had seen), but then he seemed to realise the futility of his actions and let out a small sigh. Resignedly, he brought the garden tool around so that he was holding it in front of him. Katara planted her hands on her hips.

"Well?"

He blinked. "Well, what?"

"What were you doing with that shovel?"

"Nothing," he responded, averting his gaze. "I just found it while I was walking and thought I'd bring it back to the temple."

Katara's eyebrow started rising again. "Right. That must be why you were trying so hard to hide it from me."

Zuko's unscarred cheek blossomed with pink. There was an awkward pause where she just stared at him, relying on the universal language of Eyebrow Snark to express her contempt and impatience. No one could ignore the power of that lone, lifted brow; he would have to cave and tell her what was going on at some point. Or at least that is what she assumed until—

"Look, it's late and I'm tired," Zuko muttered, turning away from her. "I'm going ba—"

"Hold it!"

He paused as her water whip flashed out, blocking his path. A startled look entered his eyes, but instead of retaliating or yelling at her—as he once would have done—he just stared at her warily, his jaw clenched. Somehow, this annoyed her even more. He had been like this ever since he had joined them at the Western Air Temple: always trying to be so helpful, polite, and in control, and it was just so infuriating! She wanted him to get angry; she wanted him to confirm that her dislike was justified, because she just knew he was hiding something! Tonight, she would prove it.

Katara pursed her lips and she closed the distance between them, getting right up in his space. "Let's get one thing straight, Zuko. I don't trust you, and frankly I don't like the fact that you've been wandering around at night with a shovel." She raised her chin, meeting his fire-tinted gaze. "So if you want to go to bed, you'd best tell me what you've been up to because I'm not letting you leave until I know."

Zuko's eyes narrowed a fraction, and she could have cackled in triumph. Finally, he was losing that nice guy façade. She'd make him show his true colours yet.

"Don't you think that's a bit hypocritical?" he observed, not sounding annoyed at all. In fact, he just leaned on the shovel with obnoxious casualness, as if she hadn't just been making threats or trying to stab him with her glare. Jerk.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she spat, once she managed to find her voice again.

He gestured at their surroundings. "Well, you said yourself that it's odd to be taking a walk at this time of night, so what are you doing up?"

"I, well ... that's just ..."

She trailed off, biting her lip in frustration. Truth was she had been monitoring him because he was a shady firebender and someone had to make sure he didn't kill them all in their sleep. In fact, she probably would have followed him on his shovel escapade if she hadn't fallen asleep by accident and lost track of him, but she couldn't very well say that to him. That was when she realised he was raising his eyebrow right back at her, and somehow his Snarkbrow Message seemed so much more intimidating than hers. Perhaps it was because he really only had one eyebrow, since the other had been burnt off and damaged beyond repair. Whatever.

"That's not the same thing!" she declared, clenching her hands into fists. "I'm not a double-crossing firebender! People actually trust me!"

He let out a derisive snort. "Last I checked you weren't exactly Miss Morals either. After all, you were the one who stole that scroll from the pirates."

"Well, you stole my necklace!"

"I didn't steal it. I just found it."

"And then used it to try bribe me and capture Aang!" She let out a snort of her own. "Hardly the actions of an honourable person."

His jaw tightened. "Well, we all do things we regret, don't we? That still doesn't change the fact you're being ridiculous."

"Ridi—"

"Yes, ridiculous," he cut in before she could go into full rant mode. "If it's so suspicious for me to be out here while everyone's asleep, then it must be for you as well."

Katara folded her arms across her chest. "Maybe so, but then I'm not the one carrying a shovel."

Zuko made an exasperated sound. "It's just a shovel, Katara. It's not like I hit someone over the head with it and have been spending this time burying their corpse."

"Then what have you been doing?" she retorted, stepping even closer and unfolding her arms. "And don't give me that rubbish about finding the shovel on your walk."

He lowered his face so that their gazes were level. "Contrary to what you might think, I don't have to answer to you."

They were so close now she could feel the heat radiating from his body and the butterfly caress of his breath on her skin. For some reason this made her pulse quicken, but Katara was not to be distracted—not even by the weird behaviour of her own body.

"You will if you know what's good for you," she growled.

Zuko stared at her for a moment and then stepped back, shaking his head as he put some distance between them. "You're crazy."

"No, I'm just being cautious. I told you that I wouldn't let you hurt Aang, and right now you're not exactly making me feel all warm and fuzzy with trust." She poked him hard in the chest. "Now are you going to tell me what you've been up to or do I have to take that shovel from your hands and beat the truth out of you?"

To her surprise, a splotch of pink burned on his cheeks. She didn't understand. She had been expecting him to get angry or at least reveal his dastardly plans; she hadn't expected him to blush.

Zuko shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "You're really not going to drop this, are you?"

"Not a chance."

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "Fine," he said in an exasperated voice. "Since you're so determined to not let me have any sleep…"

Without a further word, he gestured for her to follow and started leading her towards one of the crumbling courtyards. Katara inwardly rubbed her hands together with glee. Finally, she would be able to prove to the others that Zuko was not to be trusted and should be shipped back to the Fire Nation where he belonged. Except when he stopped walking she couldn't see anything that suggested he had been cooking up some evil plot with his shovel. In fact, there just seemed to be a lot of flowers, overgrown grass and weeds. A crease formed on her brow and she turned to him. He was once again looking a little pink around the ears.

"This is it," he said, sweeping his arm out to encompass the courtyard. "As you can see, there are no corpses or hidden Fire Nation soldiers."

Katara's frown deepened. "I don't get it. There's nothing here but plants."

"I know."

"Then what were you doing with the shovel?"

Zuko rolled his eyes. "I can't believe I have to spell this out for you, but I was …"

"Yes?" she prompted when he left the sentence hanging.

He closed his eyes, almost in a wince. "I was gardening."

Katara nodded in satisfaction. There was the evil plan. He had been gardening. She blinked. Wait, what?

"Gardening?" she repeated, staring from his flushed face to the shovel he was still holding and then back again. If Sokka was there, he probably would have said something about being caught green-fingered, but Katara was not her brother and all she could do was stare at the prince in disbelief and argue that what he was saying couldn't be right. Obviously he was lying.

"Why would I lie about this?" Zuko responded, now pinching the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb. "Honestly, I get that you don't like me, but this constant suspicion has got to stop."

Katara folded her arms under her breasts. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said with sarcastic exaggeration. "I just didn't exactly peg you for the type who likes to get his shovel dirty amongst the flowers."

Zuko's eyes widened, even as his mouth twitched, and it took her a moment to realise the innuendo underlying her words.

"Ugh, gross, not like that!" she exclaimed. "You know what I meant."

The humour faded from his eyes and he just sighed. "Whatever. The point is now you know what I was doing. I hope you're satisfied."

She pursed her lips, scrutinising him closely to figure out if he was indeed telling the truth. His expression seemed calm enough, but she could see the colour burning his unscarred cheek and the rigid way he held the shovel, as if he wanted to fling it away from him but knew it was too late to hide his Mr Greenfingers Gardenbender secret now. The awkward sincerity was imprinted all over him. Somehow, that annoyed her as well.

"Fine, I can see I was wrong this time, but it's your fault for being so secretive about it!" she said stubbornly, jutting her chin. Then a crease formed on her brow. "Why were you gardening at this time of night, anyway?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I couldn't sleep—I was telling the truth about that—and I found this place a few days ago and decided to try, well, fix it up." He shrugged. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

Katara stared around her to assess his efforts, scrunching her nose when she saw that he had been pulling out more flowers than weeds. "You really have no idea how to do this, don't you?"

His blush deepened and he lowered his gaze to his feet. "I used to help my mother in her garden when I was younger, but now that I think about it, she always ended up getting Kumi to take me away after a few minutes." He rubbed the base of his neck. "I guess I hadn't been very good at it then either."

Katara couldn't stop the bubble of laughter that escaped her lips. He looked so disheartened and awkward—nothing at all like the ferocious prince who had turned on her in the catacombs of Ba Sing Se. Then she realised what she was doing, and she abruptly silenced her chuckles and glared at him again, as if it was somehow a crime for him to make her laugh. Zuko just sighed.

"Well, I'm going to turn in," he muttered, not quite meeting her gaze. "Got firebending lessons with Aang in a few hours."

She pressed her lips together, trying not to notice how much he looked like a kicked rabaroo—or that it was her fault their little bonding moment had been ruined. He was a sneaky, untrustworthy jerk and she absolutely should not be feeling sorry for him. Not at all. But he just looked so lonely and sad.

"I could help you," she blurted before she could stop herself, and then promptly clamped her hands over her mouth. Where had that come from?

He paused and stared at her with a frown. "What?"

She lowered her hands, realising there was no turning back now. "With the garden," she explained, gesturing at the weeds. "I could help you."

Zuko stared at her for a long moment and then a small smile curved his mouth. "Thanks, Katara. I'd like that."

And this time she didn't care when she found herself grinning back at him.


	13. Not Everyone Can Be Master Gardenbenders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SasaRea pointed out in a review that, because Katara grew up in the South Pole, she probably wouldn't be that great at gardening either. I actually did consider this while writing 'Of Stalking and Shovels', but I decided to go with the idea anyway (I know, I'm terrible). In any case, you have SasaRea to thank for this companion ficlet.

Katara scratched her head and looked at the leafy shoots of green sticking out of the ground. Dirt clumps attached to bits of dried plant were scattered around her and there was an equal amount of dirt staining her knees and tunic. She raised the stringy looking bits of grass she held and stared at it through narrowed eyes, as if waiting for the plant to speak to her. Sadly, it remained silent.

"Oh, I give up!" she exclaimed, tossing the clump on the ground to join the rest of the torn out roots.

"What's wrong?" Zuko asked, pausing in his digging to lean on the shovel.

Katara did not want to tell the truth. After her little taunt about how bad he was at gardening, not to mention her offer to help him remedy this problem, it would just be too humiliating to admit that she now realised she had no idea what she was doing. She knew how to cultivate plants in the South Pole, and she had learnt a little about the different flora of the world while travelling in the Earth Kingdom, but this was different. This was trying to determine what plant to keep when most of them had been so choked by overgrowth that it was impossible to separate each plant, and she knew from her experience in the Earth Kingdom that even the weeds sometimes bloomed in flowers.

A crease formed on Zuko's brow and he knelt beside her on the ground, picking up one of the clumps of root and plant. "Um, Katara, I don't think this is a weed. Actually, it kind of looks like the plant my mother used to use to make perfume."

Katara had the grace to blush. "Oh. I, uh, pulled that one out by mistake."

An awkward silence settled between them.

"You don't know what you're doing either, do you?" he observed, though his voice was more resigned than accusing.

"It's all different!" she complained, clutching at her hair in frustration. "I mean this right here"—she picked up a fragile stem of green—"is clearly a weed, but these are nothing at all like the plants I'm used to. Everything has flowers, and they're all meshed up together, and—ugh! No, I have no idea what I'm doing!"

Again, the silence settled between them. Then a low, rumbling sound started up from beside her, and it was a moment before she realised that Zuko was laughing. Her eye caught his, but this was a mistake because suddenly her mouth was twitching and then the giggles were escaping and she just couldn't seem to _stop_. The soft chuckles got louder and louder until they were practically leaning on each other for support, both gasping for air.

"I don't think we should tell anyone about this," Zuko said, once he was able to control his voice.

"Definitely not," Katara agreed.

Sokka and Toph would never let her live it down. It really was ridiculous that they had tried to fix the airbenders' garden, only to discover that neither of them had any clue what they were doing. In fact, she had turned out to be even more clueless than Zuko. Still…

Katara looked at Zuko, taking in his scarred face and the faint smile lingering in his eyes. She might not have been able to help him with his gardening problems, but she thought she had gained something from this experience. Somehow, without her even realising it, she had forgiven the prince.

She had found a friend.


	14. Laundry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another oldie, and you again have Advocaat to thank for prompting me to write this one. 
> 
> _Star Wars_ geeks should be able to pick out the modified quote hidden in here.

Katara was not perving. Absolutely not. She was just monitoring Zuko to make sure he wasn't up to anything nefarious. So what if he was standing knee-deep in the river wearing nothing but a loincloth, all bare skin and teenage boy. It wasn't like she noticed the way the muscles in his arms rippled with each movement or the little beads of water that traced his abdomen and chest. Because she was not perving! Not at all!

"What is he doing, anyway?" she muttered, parting some of the leaves more so that she could get a better view.

Oblivious to her perv—ahem, _monitoring_ —Zuko bent down again and started doing something in the water with his back to her. She'd never noticed it before, but he had a really nice butt. All firm and toned and—

No, no, no, no! This was not the time to get distracted. She had to focus. She had to figure out what he was doing, not fantasise about giving a good old grab to his gluteus maxmimus. Her cheeks warmed at the thought, but then she noticed there was something trailing from his hand. Something red and gold, which looked rather a lot like wet fabric.

Her brow furrowed. Wait a minute, was he doing laundry?

She leaned forward, trying to get a better look. A twig snapped under her foot. Just like that Zuko dropped his clothes and spun around to face her, shifting into a bending stance.

"Show yourself!" he demanded, staring right at the spot where she was hiding.

Katara toyed with the idea of staying silent and trying to sneak back towards the campsite, but a part of her knew he wouldn't give up on the matter. He was a jerk like that. So, repressing a sigh, she stepped out from the bushes. Zuko's cheeks immediately stained with pink.

"K-Katara," he stuttered, lowering his arms and making an odd gesture as if he wanted to try cover his (almost) nakedness, only to realise he had nothing to use but his hands. "What are—how long have you been standing there?" His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Have you been watching me?"

She let out a derisive snort. "Don't flatter yourself. I just got here."

Though her burning cheeks told a different story. She hoped he didn't notice. The last thing she needed was to explain why she had been perv—monitoring him. Even now it was difficult not to stare at his lean, sinewy body, all dripping with water and begging to be touched. Her brother and Aang had certainly never looked like that when they'd been wearing their undergarments. Just looking at him made her stomach flutter and her pulse quicken.

 _Stop it!_ she scolded herself.

Zuko rubbed the base of his neck. "Uh, stop what? I'm not doing anything."

Katara's blush darkened. She hadn't realised she had said that aloud. Instead of explaining, however, she folded her arms under her breasts and looked the other way. "You know, the current is going to sweep away your clothes if you don't grab them."

That got him moving. He cursed under his breath and scrambled after his tunic and pants, which were already floating away down the river. His undershirt was still on the shore, bundled in a damp ball of burgundy cloth. She contemplated helping him with her bending, but it was much more amusing watching him flounder about to retrieve everything. In fact, she couldn't contain her laughter and had to hug her stomach to keep from toppling over with giggles as he stomped back towards her, now wetter than ever, and clutching his bedraggled clothing.

"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, waterbender."

She opened her mouth to retort, only to pause when she actually looked at him. Holy seal-jerky on a cracker, but the boy was gorgeous. His face, his eyes, his body. Somehow, seeing him all dripping wet just heightened his attractiveness, especially when he was this close to her in all his scantily clad glory and running his hand through his hair like that, drawing attention to the strong line of his jaw and—

Oh, no. He was staring at her oddly. Was it really that noticeable that she had been gawking at him? Quick, she needed to say something snarky to put him off her scent.

"You have a really nice body," she blurted, and then clamped her hands over her mouth.

What the heck? Where had that come from? That wasn't a snarky comment!

Zuko shifted awkwardly. His unscarred cheek was bright red. "Um. Okay."

Katara felt her blush spread all the way down her neck and up to the tips of her ears. "I mean ... I, uh ..." She let out a huff of frustration and jabbed her finger at him. "I still think you're a jerk!"

And with that rather pathetic comeback, she turned on her heel and raced back towards the campsite. Never had she been so humiliated in her life. Never would she look at Zuko, let alone laundry, the same way again.


	15. Rain

Sometimes, he likes to stand in the rain.

He knows it probably looks crazy: the Fire Lord standing outside in his full royal regalia, staring up at the sky as water falls down all around him, bathing him and his nation in an element he has never been able to control. His clothes get gradually heavier, crimson red turning to darker shades, sticking to his body like a second skin. His face is cold and damp, cheeks bathed in droplets as if he's shedding a thousand tears.

Sometimes, he is.

She is gone now. Her footprints lost, leaving no track for him to follow. Her scent has faded from the pillows, her clothes like the discarded skin of a cicada, useless and forgotten. Dust coats their memories, tainting everything he knew with half-remembered conversations and whispers of the past.

Sometimes, he can't even remember the exact colour of her eyes.

He longs to hold her. He knows he can't. So he stands outside on those stormy days she loved, embracing the only real memory he has of her. Water. The essence of all that she was. Healing and soft yet still so temperamental, and now nothing more than wet droplets caressing his face.

Katara.

Sometimes, he feels her in the rain.


	16. Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written as a birthday gift for Keli, who requested an alternate version of 'The Crystal Catacombs'.

Her hand is pressed against his skin, thumb just brushing his lower lip. She's so close he can feel the burning life of her presence interconnecting with the heat of his own body. Feel the feather-light kisses of her breath on his face, like the gentle strokes of butterfly wings. She is warm and real, and he can't bear to open his eyes.

It scares him that he might discover this is all a dream.

Katara was his enemy. She fought and was hurt by him. There is no reason for her to show him this compassion. He knows this, but he is so tired and broken down, like a sparrowkeet flapping its wings frantically just to stay aloft in the midst of a storm. Maybe she noticed. Maybe she just felt the connection between them, as he did, when they realised they had both lost their mothers to the Fire Nation.

_That's something we have in common._

Zuko doesn't know if he will ever understand why she offered to heal him. All he knows is that it terrifies him. Terrifies and soothes him, like being held in the embrace of someone you're not sure will suddenly try to snap your neck.

"Just relax," Katara says, pulling her hand away so that her fingers trail against his scar in a numbed caress.

Damaged nerves. Damaged heart. He's damaged all around, clutching the pieces of himself to his chest so that he will not fall apart. It hurts so much. He yearns for something more, for the warmth he feels in her proximity to always exist beside him. A friend. A hand to touch his face, just like this, not in fear because of his nation or the scar that twists his features, but in mutual understanding.

He hears the sound of a bottle being uncorked. It's about to happen, and he's so terrified now that he can barely stop himself from trembling. What if it doesn't work? What if healing his scar doesn't fix anything? He saw it as a mark of shame, a mark of his destiny, but would a physical removal really change the wounds that scar deep into his heart?

"Stop," he whispers.

Her hands still, and he opens his eyes to see her ocean-blue gaze just inches from his face. So close.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

"I don't want this," he responds, taking a step back.

"But, Zuko, I have healing powers. I can fix it!"

He shakes his head. "It's a scar, Katara. You don't know if it will work, and"—he licks his lips, nervous, ashamed to admit his own weakness—"I'm scared it won't work."

Something shifts in her eyes. "What?"

He averts his face. "You say you can heal me, that you can make the scar go away. But what if nothing changes? I'm still my father's son. I've still spent three years of my life hunting a child because he told me to. I've done bad things, and even though I'm beginning to see that I can make my own destiny, that part of my past will always be there."

Her hand brushes against his arm. "Zuko, you said yourself you don't need to be that person anymore. You can change."

"I have changed," he says simply, meeting her eyes. "I'm not the person I was when we first met."

She nods in agreement.

He places his hand over hers, corking the vial of Spirit Water. "Keep this," he says gently. "You said you were saving it for something important. This isn't it."

"But—"

"Trust me." He holds her gaze, his expression sad but in his eyes there is also a sense of peace. "You've done enough just by offering to heal me. But this time I don't think there can be a magical fix. I need to overcome this on my own."

She opens her mouth as if she wants to argue, but then she closes it again. He is surprised when she wraps her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Her face is pressed into his chest, close to his heart, and he is stunned when she doesn't pull away. He stands there with wide eyes. He's not really sure how to react, but tentatively, so awkwardly, he returns the embrace.

Comfort. Warmth. Being held by Katara is like coming home. It feels nice. Safe. He realises that he's not scared anymore.

"Thank you," he murmurs, resting his chin against the top of her head.

Katara just hugs him tighter. Though neither realise it, they are both smiling.


	17. A Swampy Situation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written as a birthday gift for Advocaat. She said, and I quote: "I want a silly Zutara oneshot about Zuko and Katara getting lost in the swamp when Katara accompanies Zuko on a royal "peace visit" or whatever to see the swampbenders. Please indulge my crack craving."

Zuko had not wanted to go on the peace visit. The swampbenders were uncouth, grubby-looking people who looked like they had crawled out from underneath an ugly, grubby-looking rock. Smelt like it, too. Let it be known that _Eau de Cologne Swamp_ was not like sniffing fresh blossoms.

In any case, he knew he could have been kinder towards the people who had helped guide the Avatar on his spiritual path and fought against Ozai's tyranny. It would be the noble thing to do, especially since many of said swampbenders had become prisoners of war to the Fire Nation after the Battle of the Black Sun. But Zuko was still learning how to be 'good' (apparently it took time, effort and continuous scolding from his uncle and friends), so he thought he was allowed to have his off days and just indulge in a real good moan. And right now he really didn't want to go on this peace visit.

Zuko flapped a bug away from his face. The nasty, buzzy little things seemed determined to fly into his eyes and mouth, and the ground kept sucking at his boots like squelchy swamp maws. Every now and then some kind of steam vent would go off, filling the air with boggy fumes that made him gag and his eyes water. He really hated this place. Even Koh wouldn't want to make a home in this hell-hole.

Scowling, he glanced ahead at the young woman walking in front of him. She was using her waterbending to part the trees and vines without hurting the swamp (it seemed that relying on weapons or fire would just get them in trouble). He wondered for what seemed the hundredth time why he had let himself be persuaded into this ridiculous royal visit.

"Remind me why we have to go for a peace visit to the Foggy Swamp tribe," Zuko said in a long-suffering voice.

"Because it's a show of good faith," Katara responded, still marching ahead. "You're the Fire Lord now, Zuko. You need to show to people that you are dedicated to being united with the world and righting the wrongs your father committed." She paused and threw a saucy look at him over her shoulder. "Besides, you were the one who said you didn't want to hide behind a wall of fire like your father. Consider this a means of giving that personal touch."

He frowned. "Turning my own words back on me is a dirty trick, Katara."

Still, she was right. He might moan and complain, but in reality he knew exactly why he was here. He had so much to prove to the world. The other nations didn't trust him, and he needed them to trust him. The Foggy Swamp Tribe might be small, but they were still an independent nation in their own right. It was his intention to sign a peace treaty with them and get them involved in the new world he and Aang were trying to create. Put simply, this visit was his duty.

Zuko sighed and kept walking, resigned to his fate. He glanced behind him to see how the rest of his entourage were coping, but he needn't have bothered. It was clear by the wooden, rather strained expressions on their faces that they were not enjoying the trek into the Bog of Eternal Stench either. He was pretty sure they were all thinking the same thing as him: the sooner they got this mission over the better.

Such were Zuko's thoughts as he and his companions made their way deeper into the swamp. At some point, a thick fog began to creep around them from within the gnarled trees and vines, cloaking the path in a misty layer. It was getting difficult to see much more than a few feet ahead. Zuko's senses prickled. Something wasn't right about all of this.

Katara slowed her pace so that she was walking beside Zuko. She slipped her hand in his, intertwining their fingers. He raised an eyebrow at her questioningly.

"I had some bad experiences with this mist last time," Katara explained, as if hearing his unspoken question.

Zuko smiled and returned the pressure of her grip. "We'll be fine if we stick together."

He'd no sooner said the words when vines suddenly came out of nowhere and latched themselves around the group. Zuko gasped in surprise, blinded and thinking only one thing: he could not let go of Katara's hand. The screams and yells of his personal guard echoed around him, combined with flashes of fire.

"Stop it!" Katara shouted. "Don't use your firebending! You'll just make it w—"

Her voice was suddenly muffled and Zuko felt her body get yanked away from him, only to find that he was getting dragged along with her thanks to their joined hands. Leaves and vines whacked against his face and body, battering at him and tearing through thick fabric. Suddenly, he collapsed on the ground and let out a small 'oomph' as Katara landed on him a split-second later.

She groaned and shifted on top of him, placing her hands against his chest to push herself into a sitting positon. Zuko just blinked, conscious of the fact that she was effectively straddling him and he could see down her tunic. It seemed a stupid thing to be preoccupied about, given their situation, but then Zuko was a seventeen-year-old boy. Fire Lord or not, he still had hormones.

"Uhh," Zuko said, struggling and failing to speak.

Well, that was intelligent. Then again, all his brain seemed to be able to think was "boobs", so he supposed it could have been worse.

Katara noticed his rather slack expression—and where he was looking. Two pink spots formed on her cheeks and she placed her hand against the gaping part of her tunic and quickly scrambled off him. Zuko felt his own cheeks warm. It was suddenly imperative that he apologise.

"Sorry," he said in a rush, getting to his feet and averting his gaze. "I didn't mean to look. I mean, they were just kind of there in front of me, and I didn't remember them being so big when we were travelling together before—" His eyes widened in sudden horror and he started backtracking frantically. "I mean, not that I was looking before. I'm just, I mean … uh …" He winced and felt his cheeks burn even hotter. "I'm going to shut up now."

Katara compressed her lips together. Oh no, that wasn't a good sign. She was probably going to get angry at him for perving. It was all over. He was dead, doomed, swamp meat. He was—

Zuko blinked as he stared at the girl now doubled over and failing to suppress her giggles. He was very confused.

"Um, aren't you mad?" he asked warily.

Katara clutched her stomach, trying to hold in her laughter. "You should have seen your face," she said in a voice that trembled with amusement. "Like a little kid who's been caught stealing the seal jerky."

Zuko's jaw went slack. Well, that was unexpected.

"So you're not mad?" he repeated, just to make sure he was in the safe zone.

"I was a little annoyed," she admitted, "but you're so awkward with girls it's kind of impossible to stay angry at you."

Zuko rubbed the back of his neck, feeling self-conscious and embarrassed. "Um, great … I think."

Katara chuckled and patted him on the arm. "Don't worry, Zuko. It's not a bad thing. In fact, your awkwardness is kind of endearing."

His mouth formed a decided pout. "Not helping."

Unfortunately, this only caused her to tease him even more about how 'cute' he was, all sulky and uncomfortable. Zuko wished that he had never bothered to apologise for staring at her boobs. He could feel himself being emasculated with each passing second.

"Alright, enough!" Zuko snapped, finally reaching his limit. "Can we just focus on getting out of here?" He paused and looked around at their surroundings. "Where are we, anyway?"

Katara frowned. "Honestly, I don't know. Those vines pulled us right off the path. I wonder if it was Hue's doing," she muttered, more to herself. "He really needs to learn to stop attacking people who enter the swamp."

Zuko just groaned and fisted his hands into his hair. "I can't believe we're lost in the Foggy Swamp. I thought you said you knew this place!"

Her eyes narrowed. "I've been here once, Zuko. Once. That doesn't make me an expert on all things swamp."

Zuko just scowled and looked the other way. For a moment neither of them said anything, too stubborn to admit they were both just frustrated with their own inability to get themselves out of this mess rather than each other.

"Well, maybe we should just start walking," Zuko suggested. "I mean, we're not going to get anywhere if we just stay here."

Katara agreed that this sounded like a good plan and, together, they started heading in what they thought was a northerly direction. Zuko didn't question this time when Katara slipped her hand in his. Truth be told, he was grateful for the contact. The swamp was beginning to give him the creeps.

"Hey, Zuko," Katara said after a while.

"Mm?"

"Why'd you really ask me to come with you on this peace visit?"

Zuko's heart sped up. "Uh, well, you said it yourself. You've been here before."

"So have Sokka and Aang. You could have asked either of them."

_Warning! Warning! Warning!_

Zuko ignored the little voice screaming in his mind. "You know that Aang is busy doing Avatar stuff, and Sokka is working with the mechanist to help bring technology to the Southern Water Tribe. I couldn't ask them."

"What, so you're saying you asked me because I had nothing to do?" Katara demanded with a decidedly sour tone to her voice. "I'll have you know I've been very busy teaching female waterbenders in the Northern Water Tribe how to fight, and—"

"It's not that," Zuko cut in, before she could really get a tirade going.

She tugged on his hand, pulling him to a stop. "Then what?"

Zuko met her big blue eyes. "I guess … I just wanted to see you."

Katara blinked. "Oh."

There was an awkward pause as the meaning behind his words settled between them. He could feel the warmth rising to his cheeks again and quickly averted his face, clearing his throat for good measure.

"Anyway, I _am_ happy that you came," he said, prompting her to keep walking. "It's been a while since we've got to spend any real time together."

"You're right," she said with a smile. "Even if it is in the Foggy Swamp."

As if on cue, two men wearing loincloths made of leaves strolled out from the trees. One of them was holding a skewered bug on a stick.

"Hey, Due, isn't that there Katara?" the hairy, loincloth wearing man on the right said, pointing a finger at the waterbender. "You know, our kin from that cold place down south."

"I think yer right, Tho," Due replied with a grin. "Lon' time no see, Katara. Who's that fancy lookin' fella with ya?"

"Uh, this is Zuko," Katara replied, releasing his hand. "The Fire Lord."

Tho and Due stared at Zuko with wide eyes, as if he were some mythical creature who had come down from heaven.

"Well, call me a stuffed catgator with no teeth," Tho exclaimed, slapping one bare leg. "I ain't ever seen a Fire Lord before."

"I don' know why but I thought he'd be taller," Due mused, looking a little disappointed. "That shiny thin' on his head sure is purty, though."

With these sage words, Due bit off the head of his bug. Zuko and Katara scrunched their noses in identical expressions of distaste. They could hear the crunchy outer layer and juices being munched about in that grinning mouth even from where they were standing.

"You sure this peace treaty is really worth it?" Zuko mumbled so only Katara could hear.

Katara looked at him in feigned shock. "Are you telling me that the great Zuko, the guy who never gives up, is ready to quit because of an itty bitty swamp, some bugs, and two guys in loincloths?"

Zuko just gave her a look that said "I will get you back for that comment later". Then he plastered a smile on his face and turned back to Tho and Due. It was time to do his duty. Every miserable, uncouth, swampy part of it.

It was as they were following the swampbender, Tho, back to the tribe's village (Due had gone out to collect the royal guard) that he felt Katara once more take his hand. A faint smile curved his mouth. Well, he supposed there were worse situations. Maybe he could handle the Foggy Swamp and its backwater inhabitants with Katara by his side.


	18. Zutara 4eva!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not to be taken seriously. No, seriously.

Katara struggled against her bonds, glaring up at her captor. Zuko had thought it a good idea to use her as bait to get to Aang, so now here she was trapped on his ship, hands tied, and only wearing her wrappings. ('Cause, naturally, she had to get caught when she was about to go bathing. This was standard procedure. Next to nothing attire? It's capture time!)

Anyway, Zuko was standing with his arms folded across his magnificently sculpted chest. (She knew it could be described as such because, despite the fact he was wearing thick armour, she had super x-ray vision that just _knew_ when a hot male body came within her vicinity.) His hair was pulled back in its usual ponytail, letting her see the smug look on his face. And what a face. His scar was like a sexy slab of meat set on a pale dish with two eyes the colour of scrambled eggs flashing down at her. Mmm, yummy. Zuko breakfast.

Katara shook her head. What was she thinking? This jerk had captured her! He had hurt her, but sweet spirits wearing pantaloons, he was gorgeous. Like she wanted to push him on the floor and rip all his clothes off to run her hands over his marvellous body gorgeous.

Zuko's eyebrow quirked. "What's wrong, waterbender?" he asked in his husky, sultry, sexy voice. "You seem a bit flushed."

Ooo, she could orgasm just listening to that wondrous sound.

Katara licked her lips. "Why don't you untie my bonds and I'll show you?" she said in a purr that was like an airship rumbling to life. But sexily.

Zuko leaned down and untied her bonds. Their eyes met, and suddenly she couldn't stand it anymore. Enemy or not, he was her soul mate! (Yes, she had decided that within that split second of eye searching, 'cause their love was just so powerful like that.) So she grabbed his face and kissed him, shoving her tongue in his mouth and swirling it around like a whirlpool (sexily, of course). Zuko responded with equal fervour, and then she really did rip off his clothes and run her hands all over his marvellous body, even as he did the same to her. Nothing else mattered but the two of them tangled in the bed, exploring every inch of each other like a pirate searching for the best booty. (And, yes, his was a mighty fine booty.)

Later, when Zuko was asleep and Katara was writing in her journal scroll (which she kept stuffed in her boob pocket), she wrote two words:

Zutara 4eva!1!ONE!


	19. The Cursed Prince

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for Advocaat as a Secret Santa gift. The prompt was forest, candy, mirror.

Fairy tales were not real. Sure, there were legends with elements of truth passed down from generation to generation, but Katara knew for a fact that most stories were just moralistic tales designed to keep naughty children in line. If you were good, you got to marry a handsome prince or gain riches. If you were bad, you got eaten by giants or left to wallow in misery. Nowhere did it suggest there was a grey area, let alone that she might get stuck as the would-be-hero to the last person on earth whom she wanted to save.

Unfortunately, that was exactly what had happened.

Katara stared at the stone altar in the middle of the forest clearing. A boy lay on top of it as if sleeping on a bed of white flowers. His hair was ink black and fell loose, forming a halo of shadowy-like silk around his head. Though she'd never admit it aloud, she thought he was quite handsome, even with the big scar on his face that twisted the left side of his features into a permanent scowl. Of course, his good looks didn't stop her from hating him for all the awful things he'd done.

"No way!" she exclaimed, turning to glare at the old tortoise with the bushy whisker. "There's no way I'm kissing him!"

Tortoise pointed one flipper-like foot at Katara. "You are the only one who can break this curse. If you don't kiss him, he will stay trapped in an eternal sleep for the rest of his life."

Katara raised her chin and looked the other way. "I don't care!"

Which was a big, fat lie. In truth, seeing the prince of the Fire Nation in this state was more than a little alarming. He had always been so full of life, so full of fire. Now he was just like a statue, all unmoving and silent. She didn't know what to think or how to react. She just knew that the thought of kissing him was so awkward, so horrible that she just ... she just ...

Ugh. It was impossible!

Aang took a step forward. "Um, Katara, I know you don't exactly like Zuko, but he is the only firebender willing to train me. Maybe you could—"

"Not you too, Aang!" Katara exclaimed, rounding on the younger boy. "I thought you at least would be on my side!"

Aang lowered his gaze. "Well, um, it kind of is your fault that he got put to sleep. I mean, if you hadn't touched that mirror—"

"I didn't know it was cursed!"

Aang began twiddling his thumbs, still looking at his feet. "Well, Zuko did warn you that the mirror was dangerous and—"

Katara rolled her eyes. "Alright, fine. It's my fault he's cursed." She folded her arms under her breasts. "That still doesn't mean I should have to kiss him!"

"Actually, it does," Tortoise responded, reaching into the pouch at his waist and popping a sweet in his mouth. "Zuko sacrificed himself so that you would not have to suffer the fate of having your soul trapped inside the mirror." He cracked a toothless grin. "Like it or not, you now share a special bond. That also means you are the only one who can bring him back."

She gave an involuntary glance at the prince. She remembered how he had knocked her out of the way as light had burst forth from the mirror, threatening to overwhelm her. She had struck the ground and bruised her limbs, but any pain she'd felt in that moment had meant nothing when her gaze had rested on his glowing form. Fire-tinted eyes had met hers through streams of silver flashes, and it was as if time had slowed to a trickling crawl. Seconds were like minutes, letting her see the relief and resignation in his expression as he realised it would be him and not her that would be cursed. Then the life in his eyes had simply vanished. Zuko had swayed, even as the mirror had shattered into a hundred pieces, and he'd collapsed to the ground. He hadn't moved since.

Could she really just leave him to remain cursed because she didn't want to kiss him?

The tortoise made a tsking sound at the back of its throat. "Look, girl, I don't have all day. Either give him a good, juicy one on the lips or get out of my forest. I've had enough of this dilly dallying."

With that blunt declaration, the old tortoise retracted its head back into its shell and faded away like a rippling mirage so that it was just Katara, Aang, and Zuko left in the clearing. She couldn't help but notice Aang gazing up at her with big, pleading grey eyes. Guilt stabbed at her heart and twisted her stomach. So maybe Zuko wasn't as horrible as he used to be. He'd switched sides (though she still had her doubts about his loyalties), and had been quite helpful since he had joined their group. But he'd also betrayed her in Ba Sing Se and hurt her in so many ways. She couldn't just forget their past. It was a struggle just to let him teach Aang firebending. Yet, as she stared at Zuko's slumbering face, free of all hate and anger, she knew that she would never be able to live with herself if she left him to remain cursed. He had saved her, after all, and it was only one kiss…

She inhaled a deep breath. "Alright, then. Here goes nothing."

She knelt on the altar and lowered her face, holding her hair out of the way as she pressed her lips against his. The awkwardness hit her like a slap in the face. There she was kissing a boy who had might as well have been a dead body for all that he could react. Not that he seemed very much like a dead person. She was very conscious of the fact that his lips were soft and yielding, offering no resistance to the light pressure of her mouth. It made her wonder what it would feel like to be properly kissed by him.

There was a twitch from the boy below her and Katara found herself being gripped by strong hands and rolled onto her back. She gasped, even as his knee slipped between her thighs, wedging her between the ground and his own body. His warm weight was all over her, and she could feel his fingers digging into her wrists as he held her arms up above her head, and—

"Zuko, it's me!" she exclaimed, wriggling to break free.

Just like that he stopped moving. Recognition dawned in his eyes as he stared down at her, though his pupils were still dilated with remnants of adrenaline. She took a moment to catch her breath, Well, it seemed like the power of her kiss had indeed woken him. Unfortunately, he had also tried to crush her.

She scowled as she shoved him off her. "Geez, Zuko, do you always tackle people who save your life?"

He shifted onto his knees. "Sorry. I just—you startled me."

He touched a finger to his mouth, as if remembering the imprint of her kiss. She was annoyed to feel her cheeks warm.

"Look, I just did what I had to do," she muttered, looking the other way. "I couldn't let myself be in your debt, and kissing you was the only way to break the sleeping curse."

Zuko's unscarred cheek dusted with pink. "Oh." His gaze darted to her lips. "So you really did—"

The warmth reached her ears, darkening her blush to a rich plum. "It's not like I wanted to kiss you!"

"Right."

Her eyes narrowed. "What do you mean 'right'?"

He held his hands up in surrender. "Nothing. I'm just agreeing with you."

She continued to stare at him suspiciously. In truth, she was terrified that he might have suspected she hadn't found the kiss as awful as she'd thought it would be. Actually, it had been kind of nice, even if he had been unconscious and had tackled her straight afterwards. Not that she had found being tackled totally unpleasant either. Zuko's body was a lot more muscled than most of the boys she had come across in her travels, and there was something rather exciting about being under him.

Katara blushed at the direction of her own thoughts. It was even worse when she noticed Zuko staring at her in that shrewd but embarrassed way of his, as if he'd been around his uncle long enough to know when someone was having lecherous thoughts. As such, it was almost a relief when Aang cleared his throat and suggested that they try to find the others.

"Right," she said.

She got to her feet and began walking ahead of the two boys with rapid strides, careful not to meet Zuko's gaze. It wasn't exactly the walk of a hero, but then Katara didn't feel much like the conquering heroine in that moment. She felt self-conscious and confused, her thoughts returning again and again to the feeling of the prince's lips and warm body.

It was just one kiss, and it had changed everything.


	20. Confidants Under a Starry Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Birthday present for Sun.

The whole world seemed to be holding its breath. Every star splashed against the ink-black sky, every blade of grass brushing his skin. Zuko lay on his back and took it all in, breathing in the scent of dirt and smoke as he counted down the seconds before light would break through the shadows. No animal cries could be heard, no rustling of leaves. There was a stillness to the night, a fear, an agonising expectation, as if he were sitting in the eye of a storm, just waiting to be swallowed up by the inevitable.

Not far from him, Katara sat with her back pressed against Appa. She watched the fire with glassy eyes, sapphire reflecting dancing flickers of flame. He knew that she, like him, was thinking of what they would have to do once they reached the Fire Nation palace. Of all that they had left behind. The group had separated, trusting in a fragile faith that it would all work out and the world could be saved.

Spirits, it made him want to laugh. A handful of kids trying to save the world from the most powerful firebenders—both of whom would be powered up even more than usual thanks to the effect of Sozin's comet. It was ridiculous when you thought of it that way.

"What's wrong?"

Zuko raised himself up on his elbows to see Katara staring at him in concern. She must have noticed his frustration. He didn't want to burden her with his doubt, though, so he shook his head.

"It's nothing. Just thinking."

Katara hugged her knees to her chest. "I'm worried, too."

"Hrm?"

"About Aang," she confided. "We couldn't find him. We have no idea if he will even turn up to fight your father. And then there's the others—"

"Try not to think about it," Zuko said softly. "You can't do anything to help them now. All we can do is focus on our own mission."

"I guess."

He forced a smile. It was meant to be comforting, but the image was jarring like a splintered mirror. In truth, his emotions were in turmoil. Soon, he would have to do the unthinkable, putting aside any trace of love that still existed in his battered heart so that he could stop his family from hurting the world. Too much pain had been caused in the name of Fire Nation glory. It was time to end the insanity. He knew it, he accepted it, but there was a part of him that still shied away from the thought. The only thing keeping him truly grounded was that he couldn't bear to see any of his friends hurt again. Especially not Katara.

Some of his thoughts must have crept into his expression, because she was suddenly uncurling herself and moving towards him.

"Zuko, are you sure you're okay?" she asked, placing her hand on his arm.

He gazed at her hand, feeling the warmth of her touch seep into his skin. A hundred lies and dismissive responses gathered on the tip of his tongue, but when he spoke he surprised himself with the honesty of his response.

"I don't know." He met her gaze, and in that moment he looked absurdly young. "I honestly don't know."

She shuffled closer, clasping his hands in hers. "Tell me."

Zuko just shook his head. "What's the point? I can't make excuses for my family anymore. Azula has to be taken down. She will destroy the Fire Nation if she is left to rule, and my father wants to wipe out an entire nation just so he can create his perfect world." He laughed bitterly, even as the pit of emptiness in his stomach that had plagued him for days grew wider. "I seem to spend my whole time tearing apart my family. I guess it's only fitting that I help to remove them from the throne as well."

Katara squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Hey, it's not your fault that any of this happened. Your family made their own choices."

"I know. I just—" He sighed and looked the other way, falling silent.

Her hands gripped his jaw, forcing him to look at her. "Look, I know I can't really understand how you must feel right now, but you've got to let your attachment for them go. It's just going to destroy you if you don't."

"Easier said than done. They're still my family."

She gave his head a little shake. "That's because you're not seeing what is right in front of you. Honestly, you're as bad as Aang." She let her hands slip from his jaw to rest on his shoulders. "So your dad is a horrible person and your sister is crazy. You still have a loving uncle, and you've got all of us!" She smiled and her eyes filled with genuine warmth. "We want to be your family, Zuko. You just have to let us in."

He blinked. "You see me as family?"

Katara rolled her eyes. "Let me add stupid to your list of qualities. Yes, you dummy. You've done so much for us—for me. Why else would I be here with you right now?" She gripped his shoulders, staring straight into his eyes. "I care about you, Zuko. I _want_ you to be happy, and I will do whatever I can to help you." A smile crept back to her lips. "Even if that means helping you take down your crazy sister."

His mouth twitched into an answering grin. "Team Steam is back in action."

Katara groaned and covered her ears. "Ugh, don't even mention that stupid name. Someone seriously needs to sit down with Sokka and give him some advice on his labelling habits."

Zuko laughed, and with each chuckle he felt some of the tension leave his body. That was when he noticed Katara smiling at him.

"Thanks," he said, realising that he felt much better. "I needed that."

She nudged his ribs with her elbow. "You're welcome. After all, that's what family is for."

His eyes softened into a smile. "I guess you're right."

Katara shuffled closer to curl up next to him. Wordlessly, he wrapped his arm around her, letting her lean against his side. The night was as still and silent as ever, pale stars shining in an inky sky, but something had changed in the mood. It was warm and fragile, like a tiny spark that had the potential to grow into a roaring fire. Zuko knew that there could be no helping what would happen tomorrow; he and Katara would clamber back on Appa and fly to the palace to confront his sister. But where fear and doubt had existed was now a new emotion: hope.

Zuko relaxed into the embrace, letting his head rest against Katara's as they watched and waited, preparing for the coming battle. Her hand slipped in his, fingers intertwining, and in that moment he couldn't have imagined having anyone else at his side. She was his friend, but she was also his family. Together, they would battle his sister to fix the wrongs his family had created.

Together, they would welcome the glow of dawn.


	21. Of Grass and Mating Rituals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behold, the conversation that started this random story:
> 
> Sunburst: Another thing I hate is when a writer describes eyes as orbs. Eyes may be roundshaped, but in their natural state, in people's noggins, they don't look like motherflippin' orbs!
> 
> Boogum: Cow eyes do. 
> 
> Sunburst: Cows aren't usually characters in a story. XD
> 
> Boogum: I'm going to make a cow the protagonist of my next Zutara just for that.
> 
> And here I am, delivering as promised. Don't say I didn't warn you that it would be random.

The grass was especially tasty today. Little drops of dew still clung to the stems, filling it with slurpy goodness. Bo the cow smiled and munched happily at the green shoots, enjoying the feeling of the sun on her black and white body. This paddock was all her own, and there was absolutely no one to disturb it and—

An odd shrieking sound pierced the air. Bo's fluffy ears perked up and, with bunches of grass dangling from her mouth, she turned her head towards the racket. One of the things that walked around on two legs was running through the grass, all clad in blue, like a blob of sky. Another two-legged thing—this one she thought was a male, though it was hard to tell since he was dripping wet and they all looked the same—chased the first. Bo shook her head in irritation and let out a low moo. The two-legged things were ruining her meal time with their shrieking.

Her round eyes focussed on the two-legged things, watching as the male one finally caught the first. More shrieking. What was that sound supposed to signify anyway? It sounded very loud, but the blue-clad one (was it female?) seemed to be happy enough. Was this the thing that humans called laughter?

"Okay, okay!" the female said, holding up her hands. (Which was an oddity in itself. Hooves were much better.) "I surrender. You got me, Zuko."

The male stared at her suspiciously. "You promise?"

"Of course."

He relaxed, but this proved to be a mistake. A second later the female had caused a giant puddle of water to splatter all over him, drenching the male. He made an angry sound and chased after his companion, who was once again making that funny noise humans do when they are happy or amused. Bo didn't understand two-legged creatures at all. Here was all this nice grass, yet all they seemed to want to do was chase each other, and—

 _Ahh_ , Bo thought. _Perhaps they are conducting a mating ritual._

The male had tackled the female and was now stuffing mud down her top, despite her protestations. Bo didn't really understand how this was supposed to make him an attractive mate, but with all that wriggling and grunting they were doing, perhaps it worked. The female certainly seemed excited.

She thought about telling the male that he was trying to mount his mate the wrong way (everyone knew you mounted from the back), but then she didn't exactly want to be privy to such antics while she was trying to enjoy her meal. Instead, Bo sniffed haughtily and told the two to get a paddock. She didn't want her grass to be defiled. Unfortunately, all that the humans heard was a big 'MOOOOOOOOO!'

The one named Zuko straightened as if zapped, still straddling the female. "What the heck was that?"

She looked past his shoulder. "It's just a cow."

"You mean a moose-cow?"

"No." She pointed at Bo. "It really is just a cow."

"Who are you calling just a cow?" Bo retorted, pawing her hoof in irritation.

The humans frowned at each other. Sadly, they didn't understand Moo language.

Bo rolled her eyes and went back to munching on her grass. Whatever. The humans could keep doing their silly mating ritual if they insisted so much. She was much happier just eating her grass.


	22. A Perilous Situation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another birthday gift for Advocaat.

This was not good. His face was so close that their noses kept bumping if either of them moved even a fraction. She could feel his breath on her skin, her lips. Like lovers about to kiss. It was far too intimate.

It was damn annoying.

Katara renewed her squirming. All she wanted was to get Zuko's face out of her space. Unfortunately, all she got was a lot more nose and forehead bumping. Their cheeks brushed against each other in jerky caresses, scarred leather sliding against unmarred silk. It was like looking at two owl-cats who didn't know whether they wanted to nuzzle or just head butt each other. Well, two owl-cats bound together with chains, not an inch of space between them, and all the while hanging upside down over a ravine that promised certain death should they fall. For that was Katara and Zuko's current situation. Even their hands were trussed behind their backs, locked tight in glove-like cuffs that made it impossible to bend.

"Stop moving," Zuko hissed.

"You stop moving!" she retorted. "It's your stupid face that keeps hitting me!"

Zuko rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath about unreasonable peasants, among other less flattering things. Katara's brows snapped together.

"Oi!" she jabbed him with her chin, not having any other means of poking him. "Did you forget it's your fault we're in this mess?"

"My fault?" Zuko snorted in derision. "You were the one who stole that waterbending scroll from the pirates."

"They stole it first! Besides," she added mulishly, "if you hadn't joined forces with them, they wouldn't have ended up catching up to us, and then they wouldn't have turned on you, and then their ship wouldn't have got destroyed, and then the captain wouldn't have lost his hand to a catgator, and then the girl he liked wouldn't have ditched him for a fat merchant, and then—"

"This revenge plot wouldn't have happened," Zuko finished. "I know. You've said it a million times now. Doesn't change the fact that your theft triggered it all."

Katara pursed her lips, regarding him through sour eyes. "I really don't like you."

"The feeling is mutual, believe me."

There was a tense pause as they both glared at each other. Katara was the first to break eye contact, letting out a haughty sniff and glancing off to the side. She maintained this pose for a while, but then her neck started hurting again and she had to give up and go back to facing front on. Zuko's face greeted her in all its annoying proximity. That was one of the worst things about this situation. All she could do was stare into Zuko's mismatched eyes, as if she and him were trapped in an eternal moment of sappy love-gazing. Ugh. It was enough to make her sick.

"What's taking Sokka and Aang so long?" she muttered. "They should have found me by now."

Zuko just sighed in a way that suggested he had heard her say this plenty of times before. It was the kind of sigh that said "I am fed up with this girl and my life; please put me out of my misery now". Katara would have happily obliged, but they were still attached. That meant freezing his head into a big ice block was out of the question. She didn't want to be connected to a dead body.

She didn't want to be connected to him period.

Stupid Aang and Sokka. Stupid pirates. She could be off enjoying her life right now, but no. She was chained to Zuko. Upside down. Alone. His stupid body was all up in her business, and she was all up in his, and it was just so damn intimate!

Katara let out a strangled sound of frustration. "Ahh, I can't take it anymore!"

Zuko blinked. "H-hey!"

But Katara wasn't listening. She twisted and wriggled and swayed and did anything she could to put some distance between them. Maybe the chains would loosen. Maybe she'd be able to get some breathing room. Or, you know, she could just find herself even closer to the prince. Her face was currently mushed into his neck and jaw, and it was hard to tell where his body and hers began, they were so pressed up against each other. Gross. Had the chains tightened somehow?

"Stop squirming!" Zuko snapped, edging his face back so she could get out of the little nook of warm firebender in which she had got trapped. "You're just making things worse!"

"No!" Katara resumed her struggles with vigour. "I'm not putting up with this any longer. I'm getting out of these chains right n—"

Her lips grazed his, stilling into a decided point of contact.

Katara sucked in a breath. His eyes widened like saucers. There was a long, awkward pause while they both stared at each other and digested what had just happened.

"That was not intentional!" she said in a rush, finding her voice again.

"You ... you ..." Zuko spluttered for a moment. Two pink splotches formed on his cheeks. "I told you to stop moving!"

"I didn't know that was going to happen!"

Indeed, in her head there was a multitude of tiny Kataras running around in circles, banging against walls, and screaming in a unified wail of despair at the cruelty of the universe. Her lips had touched his. Her unsullied lips had made contact with his horrid boy lips. That meant one thing. She had just kissed Zuko. She had _kissed_ Zuko.

Soft lips that had been so compliant to the fleeting pressure of her own.

Katara blinked. Golden eyes stared into her own. Warmth rushed to her cheeks. It spread all over face, even reaching to her ears and neck. She knew she was probably beet red. The multitude of mini Kataras scolded her for even daring to think of the kiss again. After all, this boy was Zuko; they were sworn enemies. They were not supposed to touch lips. Ever. Besides, it shouldn't even count as a kiss, because—

"It was an accident!" Katara cried, squeezing her eyes shut so that she wouldn't have to look at him.

Too bad she could still feel him. He was just there: all toned muscle and lithe limbs, and—and boy. Oh no. Why did the situation seem different now? What was this fluttery feeling in her stomach? Why was her heart beating faster? It was as if every nerve had suddenly exploded with sensation, making her hyper-aware of the boy tangled up with her.

_And you kissed him._

"Kyah!"

Zuko's good eyebrow lifted. "Did you just say 'kyah'?"

Katara's blush darkened. "So what if I did? I was just venting my frustration. Because I am frustrated. It is a perfectly reasonable thing to do while chained to an enemy and about to plunge to my death."

_So shut up!_

Her unspoken words were heard loud and clear. Zuko let out a breath that spoke volumes for his own irritation. She felt the warmth of it fan her face, reminding her of how close their lips were. One wrong move and they'd be touching again. Not that she wanted to kiss him again. 'Cause she didn't.

She pointedly averted her gaze. Zuko shifted in a vain attempt to get more comfotable. Their cheeks brushed against each other. Katara pulled back in a flash, flutters and wings springing to life once more in her stomach. No, no, no! Those fluttery things were not supposed to be there! One little (accidental!) kiss shouldn't make her so flustered. She and Zuko had been hanging chained together for ages. It made no sense that she should be reacting this way to his proximity now.

Right, that was it! She'd been hanging upside down for so long that all the blood had rushed to her head and muddled her thinking. That was why she thought his lips had felt nice and—

No, no, no! Bad thoughts. Focus on what a jerk he was. Focus on how much she hated him. Focus on his golden, golden eyes and the strong curve of his jaw, and—

Hot dang, he was actually good looking.

Katara sighed in defeat. Even the mini Kataras raised the white flag. Her lips had tasted the forbidden, and it seemed there could be no going back. She just had to accept that Zuko was attractive boy and she had not entirely hated the (accidental!) kiss.

Ugh. This really did suck. Next time she'd just leave the waterbending scroll with the pirates.


	23. This Is Not Twilight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a dumb dream I had. Also, Advocaat helped out with this one a little (actually, I just handed the laptop to her and said "write some"), so big thanks to her for humouring my laziness.

The rain was getting heavier. Zuko took a firmer hold on the basket of supplies he was carrying and quickened his pace, careful not to slip on the sludgy mud. Sokka grumbled next to him about how he was soaked, and that the sky was too dark, and how he wouldn't be able to enjoy the beach with Suki now since the storm showed no signs of going away. The boy was still muttering when they came across the old man.

"Why'd you stop?" Sokka asked.

Zuko pointed to the old man who lay slumped against a tree trunk: a pale, shrivelled looking ancient who had clearly been in the rain for a while. Zuko wasn't sure if the old man was drunk or injured, but the guy looked half dead either way. Zuko moved closer.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked.

The old man let out a groan. Zuko and Sokka exchanged a glance. Frowning, the prince shifted the supplies so that he was cradling the basket against his chest with one arm. He leaned down to touch the man's shoulder. Suddenly, the old man latched onto his forearm with startling speed and bit down on his wrist. Zuko yelped and dropped the supplies.

"You crazy old ..." he growled, trying to shake the man off. "Let go!"

It was like the man was getting stronger by the second. The man tightened his grip on Zuko's arm even as he sucked at the wound with an almost desperate manner. Disgust and panic made Zuko lash out. Flames flared all over his body, pushing out in a wave of heat. The man let out an unearthly screech and sprinted off into the trees—too fast for either of the teens to react. Zuko let out a breath and cradled his bleeding wrist.

"What the hell?" Sokka exclaimed, finally finding his voice. "That old man just bit you!"

"Thanks for helping," Zuko muttered.

"What did you expect me to do? Punch him in the teeth? I was a little busy freaking out about him, you know, suddenly taking a big, hungry bite out of your arm." Sokka gestured at the wound. "Anyway, I think we ought to get that checked out. For all we know, he could've had rabies." His eyes suddenly went wide and he dropped the supplies he'd been carrying. "What if he was a vampire?"

Zuko rolled his eyes as he picked up the basket and got to his feet. "Sure. Yeah. That's the logical conclusion."

Sokka hurried to pick up his own bags as Zuko began walking again. "Okay, but think about it. Strange old man in the jungle, scared of fire, has a taste for human flesh..."

Zuko shook his head and picked up his pace. He wanted to get back to the beach house quickly so that Katara could check the injury. "He's not a vampire, Sokka. He was just a batty old man who probably escaped from an old folks' home. There are lots of old people living on this island."

Sokka just shrugged. "Sure. Whatever. Just don't go biting me when the vampire virus kicks in. I taste like old seal leather. Honestly."

Zuko rolled his eyes again and ignored his companion for the rest of the walk back to his family's beach house. His wrist was throbbing painfully and he was a little worried that the man might actually have had rabies. That was just what he needed right as they all were preparing to fight his father. The sooner Katara looked at it, the better.

Thanks to the storm, the others had shut themselves up inside. Toph was lounging on a chair and entertaining Momo by making her meteorite bracelet change into shapes and float out of his reach. Suki was curled up with a book on another chair. Aang and Katara were nowhere to be found, but a stomp of Toph's feet informed that the two were in the kitchen. Zuko left Sokka, now pestering Suki for attention, and made his way to the kitchen. He'd never admit it aloud, but he was beginning to feel really sick: all chilled, dizzy, and it was like the wound on his wrist was burning.

"Woah, what happened to you?" Aang exclaimed as soon as he caught sight of the prince.

Zuko explained about the old man while Katara rushed over, uncorking her water flask and gathering the liquid to her hands. She fussed over him while she checked his condition. In truth, Zuko only remembered the bluish light of her healing water flickering in front of his eyes before he passed out. Apparently, he'd been dizzier than he'd realized.

He woke up later to pain. Lots of pain. His body felt like it was burning from the inside, as if the blood in his veins had turned to acid. Hands held him down. Probably a good thing since he was convulsing and flailing on the bed. He caught glimpses of blue light, but it was hard to focus. His head swam and black splotches crowded in on his vision. It was scary. He'd never felt pain like this; not even getting his face half burnt off had been this bad. His heart was beating so quickly that it felt like it might give out from the sickening flutters.

"Zuko, stay with me."

His only response was to vomit everywhere. Panicked voices sounded in the background. His convulsions got worse and he vomited again.

"Zuko!"

Cool hands touched his face, but he just groaned and closed his eyes. The pain was too much; his heart couldn't take much more of this. Then darkness swallowed his consciousness and nothing mattered anymore.

The next time he woke up he immediately cried out in shock. The light was so bright. In fact, everything was too intense. His sight, his hearing, his sense of smell. He could hear breathing and heartbeats and what even might have been the flutter of moth-wasp wings, all intermingled with the much harsher, almost hammering sounds of his companions' voices. He could smell sweat and mud and ocean, and something else. Something much sweeter. Something that made his mouth feel far too dry. Worse, he could see _everything_. Every crack in the ceiling, every hue of colour—right down to the minutest detail. It was too much. Too hard to focus. It hurt.

"Zuko!"

The others had noticed he was awake and rushed over to see how he was feeling. Zuko was bombarded by hugs, heartbeats, loud voices. He found it hard to disentangle their words from each other, let alone make sense of what they were saying. It was sensory overload all over again. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it all out, to make the noise, smells, and intense flickers of colour stop.

"Too much," he murmured.

The thudding of their blood moving through their veins pulsed in his ears. Their hands were warm on his skin, their breath too close. They smelt so … so human. He swallowed and felt his mouth fill with saliva. Something prickled at his gums. He wanted to—

"Guys, give him some room."

That was Katara's voice. She came over and rested her hand on his shoulder. The sweet, sweet smell that had been teasing his senses got stronger. All of the pulsing, thudding life inside her body was pulling him closer like a magnet. He wanted to ... he wanted to ...

A breeze blew, catching her hair and exposing her neck. Zuko's mind went blank. All he knew was that suddenly something warm was in his arms, and his mouth was on something soft and fluttering, and—

Hands shoved at his chest. "W-what are you doing?" Katara demanded.

Her cheeks flooded with colour and she was holding her neck. Zuko blinked. As if watching a scene in slow motion, he saw himself tug her into his arms, saw himself lower his mouth to her neck, saw himself suck the sensitive skin just a little, getting ready to—

Zuko swore. He swore long and loudly, even as he backed well away from the group. Sokka was making strangled noises and waving his arms about; he seemed to be struggling to process that his friend had just—at least outwardly—kissed Katara's neck. Toph was laughing. (The little troll would find it funny.) Aang, meanwhile, looked like he'd been stuffed, all stiff limbs and wide eyes. It was Suki who tried to get to the bottom of Zuko's odd behaviour.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, stepping closer. "You, uh, don't seem yourself."

"Stay back!" he warned, holding his hands out in a warding gesture. "You—you shouldn't get any closer."

Suki didn't listen. Not even when Sokka told her not to go near the prince because Zuko was crazy and might try kiss her next.

"Suki is my girlfriend," Sokka felt the need to remind the prince. "Don't you go putting your lips near her!"

Zuko would have blushed if he could. His face was stuck permanently pale. "Look, I don't want to kiss anyone!"

Katara made a choked sound. "Then what was that?" She pointed at her neck.

He mumbled something under his breath.

"What?" She stepped closer.

Zuko backed up even more. Her scent was unbearably tempting.

"Please," he said a bit desperately. "Just stay back. I don't ... I don't know if I can ..."

Katara ploughed ahead, frustration making her bold. Perhaps she intended to grab him by the tunic and force the truth out of him. Zuko panicked and did something very unlike him: he bolted. Fast. Faster than humanly possible. At least until he hit a strip of sunlight seeping through the window; then he just yelped and ducked into the shadows. His body hissed and emanated smoke. Everyone watched with wide eyes as the burns on his exposed skin healed in an instant.

Sokka pointed a trembling finger at the prince. "You ... you really did become a—"

Zuko groaned and covered his face with his hands. It turned out the Water Tribe boy's stupid theory had indeed been correct: the old man had been a vampire, and it seemed Zuko had become the newest member of that undead community. The irony was not lost on him: he was a blood-sucking, firebending vampire who was now incapable of being near fire or even standing in the sun. In short, he was so screwed it was not funny.

A club whizzed towards him. Zuko caught it effortlessly thanks to his heightened hearing and glared at Sokka.

"Hey, don't give me that face!" Sokka responded. "You're a vampire. There's no saying what you'll do to us."

"I'm not going to attack you, idiot." 

"You tried to bite my sister!"

Katara touched the spot on her neck and stared at him with searching eyes. "Is this true? You were going to bite me?"

Zuko lowered his gaze. "Um, maybe?"

He hadn't really been thinking straight when he'd done that to her. Just being around her was like listening to the call of a siren; it was intoxicating and made his mind fuzzy.

Aang tugged Katara and Suki behind him and took up a defensive pose in front of the group. "Sorry, Zuko, but I'm going to have to ask you to stay over there. We can't let you bite anyone."

"Yeah, I know."

He wasn't in a rush to move closer to the others either. They didn't need any new vampires running around.

"So, what now?" Suki asked. "I mean, there must be something we can do to reverse this, right?"

"I dunno about that," Toph mused. "Sunshine here doesn't have a heartbeat."

Zuko placed a hand to his chest and, sure enough, found it silent. Well, damn.

"Dude," Sokka said with a disastrous lack of tact. "You're, like, a creepy walking corpse now."

"Thanks, Sokka," was the dry response. "I really needed that reminder."

Toph heaved a sigh. "It's too bad."

"Yeah, seriously," Aang said, giving Zuko a sympathetic look. "That's got to suck."

"Oh, not that," Toph said with all her usual candour. "I mean I can't call him 'Sunshine' now. Maybe I'll call him Fang Boy instead."

Zuko's expression went flat. "Fang Boy?"

"You do have fangs, don't you?"

He shrugged. Sokka felt the need to check, though what he actually did was pick up a broom from the ground and poke the prince with it.

"Quit it!" Zuko snarled.

"Holy seal jerky on a sea prune, he does have fangs!" Sokka exclaimed. His eyes widened with a hint of excitement. "Do you have all the cool jumping abilities and, like, super sensing powers as well?"

"Uh, maybe?"

Zuko explained that his hearing, sight and smell had got better. It seemed his speed had got better as well, not to mention his newfound ability to self-heal, but that didn't mean much since he couldn't go in the sun anymore without turning to ashes. Aang seemed to think this was not a bad trade-off. He wanted to know if Zuko could turn into a bat, as then they could go flying together. The prince pressed his palm against his forehead.

"No," Katara gritted out.

Everyone turned to look at the girl. She stood with her hands clenched and her gaze fixed on Zuko.

"Um, no?" Aang prompted.

"I can't accept this," she said, shaking her head. "There's no way I'm going to let Zuko stay as a vampire!"

"But how are we going to fix it?" Sokka asked. "And let's not forget the comet will be here in only a few days with all its fiery, apocalyptic doom!"

"There has to be a way!" She turned to Aang and gripped his hands. "You're the Avatar. Isn't there a spirit you could talk to or something you could do?"

He scratched his cheek. "I don't know. I mean, I've never met a real vampire before."

"Please try!"

Zuko was oddly touched. He hadn't expected Katara to stand up for him this much, especially after he'd tried to bite her.

"I could try, but—"

"We don't have time!" Sokka exclaimed. "Sorry, buddy," he added, throwing an apologetic look at Zuko, "but, Aang, you haven't mastered firebending or earthbending."

"He's right," Toph said bluntly. "Your earthbending sucks."

"Right," Sokka continued, "so you should be focussing on that right now. Zuko will just have to wait a few days until after we've stopped his crazy dad from burning the world."

Aang's shoulders slumped. Even Zuko couldn't argue with that logic; there was no saying how long it would take to find a way to fix him, if he even could be fixed. Still, Katara was having none of it. She said Zuko needed their help right now, and if no one was going to do anything, then she would find a way to reverse his vampirism herself.

"Thanks, Katara," Zuko said, "but everyone needs you here. You're a healer and a good fighter."

"But you can't stay like this!" she argued. Her eyes met his. "I swore I'd never turn my back on those who needed my help. I'm not about to start now. I'm going to cure you, Zuko, and that's that!"

As it turned out, that really was that. Katara's stubbornness was a force in itself. She even got Sokka to bend to her will, though the boy did threaten Zuko with much pain if Katara came back from their trip with fangs. Much, much pain. Zuko gulped. It wasn't that he was scared of Sokka, but he was scared of his new obsession with Katara and her scent. What if he did lose control and bite her?

"Maybe this isn't a good idea," he tried to say to her.

She silenced him with a glare. Well, he guessed she was good at protecting herself. Maybe it would be fine.

They didn't set out until night since Zuko couldn't handle the sun. Momo ended up coming with them, ordered by Sokka to act as a chaperone. The lemur perched on the prince's head as the odd trio made their way through the jungle, apparently uncaring that his method of transportation was now a blood-sucking monster. It was nice to know Momo wasn't scared, though Zuko had to admit he almost wished Katara was more afraid of him. Her scent was tantalising.

"You're too close," he told her, edging off to the side to put more distance between them.

Katara made an irritated sound. "Zuko, this is ridiculous. I can barely see you now."

"It's safer this way."

"Look, it's fine."

"But—"

"I'm not going to spend this whole trip with you more than ten feet away from me. Stop acting like an idiot and come here."

Zuko curled his hands into fists. "I'm worried," he admitted.

She paused. "Is it really that hard for you?"

"Only when I'm with you."

Her heartbeat quickened and he sensed the blood rush to her cheeks. Spirits, this was impossible. He wanted to pull her into his arms again.

"You should go back to the others," he told her, carrying on walking and quickening his pace. "I don't want to hurt you."

Katara tensed, but then she was marching towards him. "Wait!"

He stopped, unable to resist the command when his whole body trembled with need for her.

"I'm not scared of you," she assured him.

"You should be."

Her breath hitched. She was so close now that he could feel the pulsing warmth of her, almost taste her scent on his tongue. He closed his eyes.

"Katara." His voice was low and raspy. "You really need to go. Right now."

Fingers brushed against his back. "I'm not leaving."

Her touch was like a shock through his body, igniting frozen blood and stirring the silent beats of his heart. He wanted her. He wanted her so damn much. That scared him. It scared him even more that he couldn't pull away.

"Just go."

He said the words as if pained—part plea, part warning. Katara gripped his shoulder and turned him to face her. Their eyes met through the shadows. Not that the shadows meant anything to him. He could see her clearly: her eyes, her lips, her fluttering pulse. Her scent was so strong it was like he had been wrapped up in the sweetness, like it was a ribbon entangling him and tugging him closer.

"I'm not scared," she repeated. "I trust you."

"You really, really shouldn't."

Her eyes widened at his honesty. Not that she got a chance to respond. The next second he had her back pressed against a tree, pinning her in place with an effortless strength. Momo screeched in protest at the rapid movement and fluttered off. Neither Zuko nor Katara paid any heed to the lemur. Their faces were close, breath intermingling. He could hear her pulse racing, her heart pounding and pounding and pounding. She moistened her lips.

"You," he murmured, running his thumb along her heated cheek. "You're driving me crazy, you know?"

Katara's heartbeat stuttered. Then he kissed her. He kissed her because it just made sense. Her lips were soft and had been parted so invitingly. Her darkened eyes were like sirens telling him to have a taste, to try what he had never dared when he'd been human and still had inhibitions. He wanted her. It was an instinct, a need tattooing itself to his mind. Now he knew she wanted him too. Even without his vampire senses, he would have realised it was desire, not fear, that had made her pulse quicken at his proximity.

She looped her arms around his neck and opened her mouth more to him, tongue brushing his in velvet caresses. The kiss was heavy and intoxicating. It made his head spin and his body tingle. He could feel the softness of her curves, the way she moulded so perfectly to him. It was sensory overload in a different sense: a rush of need and pleasure that made him want to push the boundaries even further, that made him grip her thighs and help her to latch her legs around his waist, increasing the friction between them; that made him grind a little into her hips, earning a soft sound from each of them.

_Are we—are we actually doing this?_

The thought drifted through his mind with a dizzy sort of wonder. She fisted her hand in his hair while the other tugged at his tunic, parting the cloth. He shivered at the touch of her fingers on his bare skin. She appeared bold, but he could hear—practically feel—the way her heartbeat fluttered and pounded for him. Nerves, excitement; she was expressing it so easily. He had to admit it was a turn on. It was oddly exhilarating being able to sense what his touch and kisses could do to her. He wanted to see what other reactions he could get, but his own mind was being swallowed up by instinct and pleasure. It was hard to focus.

His lips left hers to trail down her jaw, her neck. He found her pulse and sucked gently, even as his gums prickled. Katara made a throaty sound that did terrible things for his self-control. Zuko had almost pierced the sensitive skin before he'd realised his fangs had extended. He swore and released her, backing off so quickly that she fell on her butt. Her hair was a mess and her lips were swollen.

"Um," she said a bit dazedly.

He groaned and covered his face with his hands. "I'm sorry," he muttered over and over. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Zuko, it's okay."

"No it's not!" His voice sounded anguished. "I almost bit you, Katara. I was going to bite you! Just go. Please, please just go! I can't control myself around you and—"

She got to her feet. Her cheeks were still flushed. "Look, you idiot, I really like you and I'm not going to ditch you now! I meant what I said! I'm going to find a cure!"

He blinked. She glared.

"You like me?" he questioned.

Katara's blush darkened. "Do you think I would have kissed you if I didn't?"

He swallowed. Right.

"Anyway." She cleared her throat and folded her arms across her chest, averting her face. "Now you know. So you can't tell me to go away anymore. Got it?""

"I still don't think this is a good idea," he murmured. "I really don't know if I'll be able to control myself around you."

She raised her chin. "I'm a master waterbender. I'm sure I can handle you."

"But if we kiss again—"

"Oh, no, you lost that privilege when you tried to bite me." Her lips curved into a smile. "Sorry, Zuko, I don't plan on becoming a vampire. You'll just have to wait till you're human again if you want any more kisses."

He didn't even have to consider the matter. "Let's go."

He grabbed her by the wrist and marched deeper into the jungle. Momo fluttered over their heads. Now that he'd finally got his chance with Katara, he wasn't going to waste it. He'd make sure he became human again. No matter what, they would find a cure.


	24. Where's the Smoke?

"Uh, what are you doing?" Zuko asked.

Katara flinched and dropped his tunic. Zuko continued to stare at her as if she'd developed a second head. Understandable since he'd just caught her sniffing his clothes. That was creepy.

Her cheeks coloured and she coughed to clear her throat. "I was just, uh, seeing if your clothes needed to be washed."

"Even if they did, I can wash them myself."

"I know that." She folded her arms under her breasts and looked the other way. "I just thought I'd be nice. You know, try to help you out a bit since you're busy training Aang and I'm a waterbender and can do laundry way faster than you."

Zuko stared at her for a long moment. She had said this all in that far too forceful way that suggested she was lying. He decided not to push the issue. (Because he frankly didn't want to know about why she had actually been sniffing his clothes; he still thought it creepy.)

"Okay," he said, stepping more into the room. "Well, thanks for the thought, I guess, but I'll be fine."

Katara's blush darkened. "Right. I'll just go then."

She left in a hurry. Zuko stared at her retreating figure and then back at his bunched up tunic as if it had grown a head. What in the hell?

oOo

The second time it happened he was actually wearing his clothes. Zuko blinked and backed up a step from the waterbender. "Did you just sniff me?"

He hadn't intended to say the words, but sometimes his filter got faulty and they slipped out. At least he hadn't called her creepy to her face. He knew her temper intimately and had no desire to arouse it again so soon after she had forgiven him. (Because there was no way she would let the comment slide, even if her sudden predilection for sniffing him was super creepy.)

Katara coloured just as she had done the first time. Her eyes had that wide look of a kid whose hand had been caught in the fireflake jar, but then she closed her mouth and tried to look affronted. _Tried_ being the key word. "I was not sniffing you." A darker blush. "Not like that anyway."

His lone eyebrow rose. "Not like what?"

"Nothing." She pursed her lips and avoided his gaze. "I just thought something smelt bad and wondered if it was coming from you."

His brow creased. Okay, that was the second time she had inferred he or his clothes needed washing. Maybe she wasn't trying to be creepy at all. Maybe he really did just smell and she'd been nice enough to try figuring out if it was him before saying it to his face. His own cheeks warmed at the thought. He bathed regularly (certainly more than Toph and Sokka), but perhaps it wasn't enough. He supposed he did train a lot with Aang in the heat.

"Do I really smell that bad?" he couldn't help but ask, giving his left shoulder a sniff. Nothing smelt off to him, but maybe he was just used to it.

Katara chewed on her lip. She avoided his gaze. "To be honest, you probably could do with a bath."

He rubbed the base of his neck. "Oh. Guess I'll do that then. Sorry."

He wandered off, feeling like an idiot for being so paranoid. Of course Katara hadn't been sniffing his clothes or person for some creeper reason only known to her. She was a nice, normal girl (when she wasn't making death threats). It was a relief to think that he only had to bathe for everything to return to life as usual.

Oh, how naïve he had been.

oOo

Zuko stared at the blushing waterbender. And stared and stared. Words had completely failed him—at least for the moment. She'd stalked him all the way to where he was bathing and had managed to sneak up on him while he was getting dressed just so she could get in a sniff. At any other time he might have been impressed that she had got so close without him detecting her presence. As it was, he just felt flustered and confused. Really, really confused.

"What's your deal?" he snapped, unable to hold it in any longer. "Do you have any idea how weird it is that you keep sniffing me?"

"I'm sorry!" she cried, ducking her pink face and sounding genuinely remorseful. Or maybe just embarrassed. "I know how it must look, but I swear it's not what you think!"

"Then what is it?" He folded his arms across his chest. "Because coming here when you knew I'd be bathing kind of leaves only one conclusion."

As in, she was a creeper. A cute creeper, he'd give her that, but a creeper nonetheless.

Katara covered her face with her hands. "Look, I didn't ... I wouldn't do ..." She made a frustrated sound. "It was because of the stupid scroll!"

She shouted this like the meaning should be obvious. Zuko's face only scrunched more.

"What scroll?" he asked.

Katara peeped at him from behind her hands. "Suki found it. It, um, mentioned something about firebenders."

"Uh, okay. And that led you to sniffing me because …"

"Because it said firebenders were supposed to smell like smoke all the time. I was just curious if you did."

"The hell?"

Her blush reached the tips of her ears. "I know, I know! I'm sorry. I was just curious."

Zuko pressed his palm to his forehead and then dragged said palm over his face. "You couldn't have just asked me?"

She traced circles on the ground with the toe of her sandal. "But that would be embarrassing."

"Because sneaking around to sniff me isn't."

She had the grace to blush again. "Right. Guess that was kind of weird now that I think about it."

Zuko resisted the urge to make another sarcastic comment. Instead, he frowned at her. "Alright, so you were sniffing me to see if I smelt like smoke. By now I hope you've satisfied your curiosity."

_Please stop being a creeper._

He didn't say those words aloud, but she must have heard them anyway since the colour darkened on her cheeks. Then she started tracing circles on the ground again with her foot.

"Actually, I wasn't able to figure it out. I never got close enough."

Zuko heaved a big sigh and spread his arms. "Go ahead."

"What?"

He looked off to the ceiling. "Just sniff me so we can get this over with. That'll be the end of it, right?"

She nodded and stepped closer. Geez, girl didn't even hesitate. He swallowed and kept his gaze fixed at a random point above her. Still didn't stop him from jumping slightly when he felt her zone in on his neck. Why that spot of all places? Her hair tickled his chin and he could feel the warm caress of her breath on his skin. An unbidden shiver passed through him. He told himself it was just because she'd revealed herself to be a creeper—certainly not because she was in the position of someone about to place a kiss on his neck.

Katara stepped back with a frown. "I still can't smell any smoke."

He coughed to clear his throat and went back to folding his arms across his chest. "Well, obviously. It's not like I'm a walking campfire."

"But you can bend fire."

"Saying I should smell like smoke because I'm a firebender is like saying you should always smell like the ocean just because you're a waterbender."

She pulled a face.

"Now you see my point." He shook his head. "I'm a person just like anyone else. It would be weird if I smelt like smoke all the time."

Katara made a thoughtful sound. "I wonder if that means you wouldn't taste like it either then."

"What?" If his yelp was a little undignified, he was too stunned to care. "T-taste?"

"The scroll said when the girl kissed the firebender prince that he tasted like wood smoke." Katara's big eyes fixed on him curiously. "Do you taste like that?"

"Why would I ... that is so ..."

Her brow furrowed and she placed her finger to her chin. "Though I guess you wouldn't know if you did taste like that. Only the person kissing you would be able to tell."

His eyes narrowed. "No."

"No what?"

"I know what you're going to say next and the answer is no."

Katara made a show of rolling her eyes. "Now you're being dramatic."

"Are you saying you _want_ to kiss me?"

Colour dusted her cheeks. "It's not like that. We'd just be kissing for research purposes. Don't you want to know if the scroll's theory is correct?"

"I already know that scroll is a piece of shi—"

"C'mon, Zuko." She moved closer. He was annoyed that his heartbeat quickened. "It's just a kiss. What harm will it do?"

He frowned at her. He couldn't deny that he was attracted to her. (Even if her creepy sniffing habit had thrown him for a bit.) Kissing her wouldn't be awful. He also knew that she wouldn't stop pestering him until he satisfied her curiosity. She was annoyingly persistent like that. (Even if he did admire that obstinacy just a little.)

"Fine," he said, grabbing her by the waist and using his other hand to tilt up her face. "If this is the only way to make you forget about that stupid scroll."

Then he leaned down swiftly and pressed his mouth to hers. Katara stilled. Her lips responded a split-second later. It was like they were testing each other, or maybe just teasing each other. Light brushes of contact soon got a little more heated, a little more daring. Blood thrummed in his ears. Their lips parted and their tongues met. She made a soft sound and her hands worked their way up his bare chest, sending shivers all through him. A dim part of him was aware that one of them should probably pull back now. Whatever research she had been hoping to gather had well and truly been ticked off.

"Katara," he said a bit breathlessly.

She fisted her hands in his hair and pressed her hips against his, swallowing the rest of his words in a deep kiss. Zuko bit back a groan. The flow of his blood was quickly heading south. He was going to unravel before her faster than Aang could run with airbending.

"Stop." He gripped her shoulders and pushed back. "This is—this is enough."

Her eyes remained fixed on his mouth. Then she blinked as if snapping from a trance and looked up to meet his gaze. Colour bloomed all over her face. He could appreciate the feeling; they had just kissed each other senseless. Her hair was all mussed from where he'd tangled his fingers in the strands and he was sure his looked the same. Never mind what she'd been doing with her hips. That sweet friction wasn't something he would forget in a hurry.

He released her shoulders and took a step back. Space was good right now. Space was much needed. Katara seemed to be of the same mind. She also took a step back and cleared her throat, trying and failing to fix up her hair.

"Well," she said, still sounding a bit croaky. "I, uh, can confirm you don't taste like smoke."

"Obviously."

They gave each other another surreptitious glance. There was desire in her eyes. He almost groaned. So much for her saying there was no harm in a kiss. This was not good. This was really, really not good.

"So, um, I'm gonna go now," she all but squeaked.

He didn't stop her. Instead he placed his face in his hands and gave into his frustration. Damn that stupid scroll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was inspired by the sheer amount of Zutara fics I have come across where Zuko is described as smelling/tasting like smoke. It makes me laugh because, honestly, why would he smell like smoke, let alone taste like it, all the time just because he's a firebender? Smoke comes from actually burning something (not to mention incomplete combustion of whatever fuel is being used). He's technically not burning anything when he creates his flames. Conclusion: no smoke smell.


	25. First Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Zutara Week 2018.

She sits close to him, shoulders bumping like old friends and her fingers brushing his in an accidental caress. Heat tickles his cheeks. Her skin is so smooth. It makes him conscious of all his callouses and scars.

"Sorry," he murmurs, retracting his hand back.

"For what?"

His tongue gets stuck to the roof of his mouth. The smile on her lips is warmer than the sun on his back; it should be calming, assuring, but his heart stirs like a drum caught up in a rhythm he can't control. Suddenly, he is teetering, wavering on an edge he's too scared to name.

"I…" He swallows hard, averts his gaze.

"Hey." Her shoulder presses more firmly against his and loose strands of her hair tickle the exposed skin on his arm. "Is something wrong?"

"No."

"You sure?"

He doesn't risk looking at her. He knows all the feelings fluttering inside him will just intensify.

"Zuko."

The way she says his name is like a tugging on his soul. It anchors him, pulls at him, whispers to the very core of who he is. That scares him as well. No one has ever made him feel so much.

"Don't ignore me." Her hand reaches for his jaw, finding purchase and guiding him into meeting her gaze.

Blue.

He's always struck by the colour—beautiful and bright and so dearly familiar. She is his friend, his _best_ friend, but the whispers in him are getting louder. They thunder with his heart and yearn for more.

More than friends. More than friendly shoulder bumps and accidental caresses.

He swallows again. "Katara."

"Yes?"

Her voice has lowered to match his. The smile still lingers in her eyes, but he is transfixed by her lips. They would be softer than her skin.

"I …"

He trails off, lowering his head a little so their lips are a hairsbreadth apart. His gaze darts to hers, waiting for the repulsion, the refusal, but her eyelashes simply flutter shut and she leans up to close the gap.

She is kissing him.

His breath is snatched in an instant and all he can think is her lips _are_ soft. Their lips brush a second time, a third, slanting and teasing. When she pulls away, her cheeks are just as pink as he knows his must be. His face is warm all over.

"I've been waiting forever for you to do that," she murmurs.

"Technically, you kissed me first."

She huffs a laugh and mutters something about him being cheeky, but then she tugs him down to her level and kisses him again. He smiles against her lips. Maybe her having so much sway over him isn't such a bad thing.


	26. Letters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Zutara Week 2018.

The great thing about being drunk was that suddenly everything seemed like a wonderful idea.

The bad thing about being drunk was that suddenly everything seemed like a wonderful idea.

Zuko was currently drunk, and he had just got a wonderful idea.

He took inspiration from a play the Ember Island Players had butchered (of course) and decided he would woo the person of his heart through a romantic letter. It would be the best love declaration ever, or so his sloshy alcohol mind believed. How could Katara not be moved by being told her eyes are bright gems and turtleducks and an ocean dragging a ship of screaming men to their grave?

Yeah.

So he wrote his letter with ink-splattering enthusiasm and climbed out of his window (losing his grip halfway and flattening some bushes), then stumbled off to go deliver it to her. He could have just got a servant or one of the guards to do it, but that wasn't how it went in the play. What he needed was some dramatic flair, like a messenger bird.

It was really hard to find messenger birds.

Had they all flapped off somewhere for a messenger bird holiday? Were they on strike? Was there a secret messenger bird plot to hide from the Fire Lord?

Zuko sighed (he was getting pretty sleepy now) and wondered why it was that nothing ever came easy to him. The guards asked him if he needed help, but he waved them off. He didn't need their assistance. Besides, what if they suddenly decided they were in love with Katara? She was so warm and fierce and beautiful and amazing and, yes, sometimes scary, but he liked that about her as well, so obviously other human things weren't to be trusted with his precious letter since she was so easy to love. Much better to find a non-human way.

But it was still proving difficult.

Zuko sighed again and wandered the grounds. Then he spotted Momo gorging on plums in the garden and he got a brilliant idea.

"I want you to deliver this to Katara, okay?" he said seriously, handing the letter to the lemur. "You've gotta do this for me, Momo."

Momo tilted his furry head, chirruped, then snatched the letter and flew off.

Zuko let out a contented sigh. That was that done. Now all he had to do was wait by the turtleduck pond for her to meet him. Then he could hear her answer.

oOo

"G'morning, Fire Lord," King Bumi said with a wink.

Zuko's face went hot and he sunk low in his chair. He looked anywhere but at the old man with the tufts of white hair.

"Uh, am I missing something?" Katara said, glancing between the blushing Fire Lord and the flirtatiously waving old man.

"It's nothing," Zuko gritted out.

Just that he now knew, at least if he ever felt the urge to write another love confession, he should actually write the intended recipient's name on the letter. Also, he should never, ever trust the Momo delivery service.


	27. Tea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Zutara Week 2018.

"There's no way you're going to beat me," Zuko declared, sitting opposite his wife on the cushions in the formal style. "I spent long enough working in a teashop to know the difference."

A spark of challenge entered Katara's eyes. "We'll see about that. Uncle has been teaching me, you know."

Iroh smiled at them both fondly and poured tea into two cups before giving one to each of them. Fire Lord and Fire Lady glared at each other—which wasn't really an accepted part of the tea challenge ceremony, but they had always been rather competitive, so he'd let it slide—and then they took sips of their tea.

"Oolong," Zuko said.

Wrong.

Katara raised her chin. "It's obviously ginseng."

Also wrong. Oh dear. Perhaps he'd made that one too difficult for them.

Iroh picked up one of the other pots and poured the tea into two new cups. This one was chamomile, nothing added, so they should at least be able to get this one.

"This has to be jasmine," Zuko decided after his sip.

"Chrysanthemum."

Iroh resisted the urge to facepalm.

On and on it went with each carefully prepared batch of tea being guessed wrongly. Iroh once put the same tea out again, just to see if they'd notice, and the fools gave different answers (and still got it wrong).

He despaired for his students. He despaired for the Fire Nation. How could Zuko and Katara be good rulers if they didn't know how to tell the difference between a cup of ginseng and a cup of dragon's beard?

The horror of it all.

"Alright," Iroh said wearily. "This is the last one."

Zuko and Katara took sips.

"Tastes like nuts," Katara said with a scrunch of her brow.

"Nuts and … grass?"

"Yeah!"

"Nuts and grass isn't a tea flavour!" Iroh almost bellowed.

Fire Lord and Fire Lady blinked.

"I see I have a lot more instructing to do," Iroh said, shaking his head like a man who had just had the weight of the world placed on his shoulders.

Katara did not seem to notice his new burden. She admitted the last one was rather difficult, but she was sure she would be crowned the victor.

"Actually, it's a draw," Iroh responded.

"A draw?"

"You both got every tea wrong."

Dead silence.

Iroh turned to leave, unable to bear the shame of his two students getting such abysmal results. That was when he heard those dreaded words.

"Well, you know, tea still just tastes like hot leaf juice to me," Zuko muttered.

"I know, right?"

Iroh clutched at his hair. Yes, he despaired for the Fire Nation.


	28. Not in Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I already have a chapter titled "Turtleduck" in this collection, but this is day 4 for Zutara Week 2018.

Katara found him sitting by a pond in the gardens. He was wearing more casual robes and had pulled his hair back in a simple ponytail, perhaps to keep the dark strands from getting all in his face. It looked as if he was busy writing something. There was a pot of ink near his knee and he had a brush in one hand and paper in the other. He didn't even notice her approaching.

She tiptoed over, not wanting to announce her presence just yet, and peered over his shoulder. There were no words on the paper; instead, he had been painting the turtleducks circling on the pond. The peacefulness, the innocence of the little creatures—he had captured it all.

"Wow, you're really good," she blurted.

Zuko flinched and twisted to face her with huge eyes. "Ka-Katara."

She took the picture from his slackened grasp and examined it more closely. "I had no idea you could paint."

"Er—"

"Oh, there's another."

"Wait!"

His hand shot for her wrist, but she had already lifted the page up. Her eyes widened. The young woman's hairstyle, the eyes, the necklace around her throat, even the expression. It was her. She was looking at herself, painted in careful strokes of black.

Her heart stuttered and tripped over its own rhythm. "You painted me?"

Zuko visibly swallowed. He had a white-knuckled grip on the ink brush. "I … I didn't mean it as anything weird. I just …" He looked down and away from her. "I'm sorry. I should have asked you first if you were okay with it."

"I don't think it's weird," she assured him, biting back a smile. He was always so quick to expect the worst reaction from everyone. "I'm just surprised. I don't remember ever seeing you paint around me."

Colour dusted his unscarred cheek. "Oh, uh, I didn't actually need to look. I kind of painted you from memory."

Now her cheeks were getting hot. How often had he watched her to be able to picture her face so accurately?

Zuko bit his lip. "That's creepy, right?" He groaned and turned completely away from her. "I knew it. I knew you'd just find it creepy. But I swear I haven't been stalking you or anything. I just—"

"Zuko." Half-laughing, she placed her hand on his arm. "It's fine."

He tentatively glanced at her. "Really?"

"Yes, really. I like it. I'm honestly flattered."

Some of the tension eased from his shoulders. "Oh. Then good. That's good."

Her lips curved. "So, do you often paint your friends in secret? Can I see the others?"

The huge-eyed, startled rabbit-deer look slapped back onto his face. His cheeks went all kinds of shades of pink before darkening to plum. "Um …"

"Um?" she prompted.

He mumbled something too low to hear.

"What?"

"I've only painted you," he repeated in a rush, looking anywhere but at her.

Katara let out a small breath, her heartbeat skittering and quickening like a clumsy dancer. "Oh."

There was an awkward moment where they both just blushed at each other. One of the turtleducks let out a soft quack.

Zuko plucked at her sleeve, though he still didn't quite meet her eyes. "I know you're leaving again soon, but I … do you think you could ever, you know … with me?"

"Are you, are you saying you like me?"

He nodded his head.

"And you want to be with me?"

Another nod.

She swallowed. Her heart thundered in her breast and her cheeks were far too hot, but his own shy embarrassment helped her find the courage needed to take his face in her hands. Mismatched eyes met her own, searching and earnest, but also so hesitant and worried. Just a glance told her that he thought she was going to reject him.

Katara smiled. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay," she repeated, then leaned up and placed her lips on his. "Let's be together."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always liked the idea that Zuko would be more in tune with his creative side (painting, playing instruments); he just pushed all that part of himself to the side while he was all RAWR MUST CAPTURE AVATAR and, you know, in general being a big Angsty McAngstfest. So here we have artist!Zuko doing some traditional ink and wash paintings and a sneaky portrait of Katara on the side (because Zutara Week).


	29. Crystals

Zuko drummed his fingers on the stall and peered around the market. A heavy veil covered all of his hair and face and he was draped in so many shawls with bell-like tassels, he basically looked like a tinkling bundle of cloth. Little crystals glimmered from where they hung above him and created rainbow bursts in the sun and a small urn of bones was to the right of his hand. It was all suitably mysterious, as intended for a fortune teller. Zuko just wished he didn't have to be the one watching the shop.

"Stupid Uncle," he grumbled.

If only the old man hadn't fallen for that scam artist, Madam Jia. If only they weren't stuck living like peasants and were desperate for money. If only …

"Oh, a fortune teller!"

Zuko sat up straighter and glowered at the two women heading towards him. The thin one who looked like a mantis-squirrel sat down opposite him and asked to get her fortune read. With no choice but to go along with his disguise (or inevitably reveal Jia's scam), he looked at her shrivelled palm and waffled in a higher-pitched voice the same things he'd heard Jia spout: there was uncertainty in Mantis-Squirrel's future, her lucky colour was yellow, she should avoid the man eating dumplings.

"A man eating dumplings?" Mantis-Squirrel questioned.

"Yeah …"

"Why?"

Zuko looked to the left. There was a long pause.

Mantis-Squirrel cleared her throat. "Madam Jia?"

"That is not for the all-seeing eye to reveal."

It was a line Jia often tossed out when she didn't want to explain things and it worked well for Zuko here. The lady paid for her fortune and then left with her friend, still musing about the man who ate dumplings. Little did they know Zuko had only mentioned such a thing because he was hungry and craving dumplings.

"These people are so stupid," he muttered.

Even so, he hated having to play along with the scam. It was all lies and just plain dishonourable, but it was also the only way he and Iroh were going to get food and a roof over their head.

Zuko was still bemoaning his fate when a girl with dark skin and wearing a blue tunic wandered over. He recognised her instantly as the waterbender who was always with the Avatar. Head whipping this way and that, he glanced around for any sign of the bald monk—the one he _still_ needed to capture if he wanted to go home—but it was just the girl. That was disappointing.

She kept coming closer. Not good. Panic and embarrassment crawled up in hot tickles along his skin, settling into a rush of warmth on his cheeks. (He was wearing woman's clothes, after all.) Fortunately, the veil hid his blush. Unfortunately, Waterbender Girl was now sitting opposite him.

"Hi," she said brightly. "Madam Jia, is it?"

Zuko blinked a few times. "Uh." He coughed and forced his voice to go higher. Best to just keep playing along. Maybe he could get information about the Avatar from her. "Yes, that's me."

"Great!"

The girl went on to explain about how she'd seen a fortune teller back in Makapu Village who'd told her stuff about her love life, but she just wanted to clarify some things.

"See, there's this boy who likes me," she said, lowering her gaze. "He's sweet and funny, but I don't know if I like him back. I mean, I'm trying because I think he's supposed to be my destiny, but …"

Zuko listened to her go on and on about the boy who was supposedly her destiny, but who was shorter than her. ("I mean, he might grow taller, right?") And who was bald. ("I prefer a guy with hair, but it's not like he was _born_ that way.") And who sometimes made her feel like she was his mum. ("I just wish he could act a little more mature, you know?")

"You're talking about the Avatar." The words just slipped from him, not to mention in his normal voice. He quickly coughed and made his pitch higher. "Uh, aren't you?"

Waterbender Girl's eyes widened. "How did you know?"

"The, uh … all-seeing eye told me."

Waterbender Girl got very excited and asked him to tell her what else he saw. Was the Avatar really her destiny? Would he get taller? Would he ever get hair?

Now Zuko could have been nice and not interfered in this girl or the Avatar's romance, but if he couldn't catch the bald-headed nuisance, he might as well screw over the boy's love life. (Hey, Zuko had been going through a difficult time. He was dressed as a female fortune teller for spirits' sake.) So instead of assuring her that all would be fine, he decided to burst that bubble with deadpan viciousness.

"The Avatar will always be short, will always be bald, and he'll want to have ten children with you and call them all Aang Junior."

"Aang Junior?" she repeated, scrunching her nose.

"Yes. All of them, the girls and boys."

Waterbender Girl looked a bit deflated. "Oh."

Zuko expected her to leave then, but she suddenly held out her palm to him.

"Can you tell me who my husband will be, then?" she asked. "Maybe you'll see something different than Aunt Wu."

He repressed a sigh. Really, why did he have to do this? He was a prince on an important quest to restore his honour, not a lady named Madam Jia offering love advice to young girls.

"Fine," he grumbled, taking her hand. Huh, her skin was really nice and smooth.

"Well?" she prompted.

He glanced up and his heart skipped a beat. She'd leaned closer in her eagerness, so he was struck with the full blueness of her eyes. It occurred to him then that Waterbender Girl was kind of cute. And he was still holding her hand.

"Madam Jia?"

Right. Fortune telling.

"Uh, um, I see …"

"Yes?" She leaned even closer.

His cheeks heated and he quickly lowered his gaze back to her palm and stared at the lines he couldn't read. "Your husband will be, uh, tall and, um, have hair, and he won't make you feel like you're his mum."

"And he'll be a powerful bender, right?"

"Sure."

Waterbender Girl smiled brilliantly. Zuko tried to remember her name. Was it Batana? Cabana? Kanera? Susan?

She stood up and placed her copper pieces on the stall for payment. "Thanks, Madam Jia! I feel a lot better."

Katara! That was it. Her name was Katara.

"You're welcome, Katara."

She blinked. "You know my name?"

"Oh, you know … the all-seeing eye and all." He coughed.

She didn't seem to find anything suspicious about this and just waved goodbye to him before going off to supposedly meet with her brother and the bald nuisance. Zuko followed her with his gaze, claiming to himself it was just because he needed to see where she was going (because he had to capture that monk to restore his honour!), but mostly he was just thinking about soft hands and blue eyes.

Katara. It was a nice name.


	30. Bloodbending

Blood pounding. Heart pumping. Her breath is a shuddering gasp and she arches to the guidance of his hands, to the thundering hum of her blood.

She is the one who is supposed to be the bloodbender, the one who can control bodies like a puppeteer and bend all that pulsing flow to her will. But what he does is nothing like her twisted art. His lips are on her neck and his fingers slide up her thigh, sneaking under cloth to tease her where she's most sensitive. It feels so, so good, and she can't help but make a soft sound in the back of her throat—low and primal and urging him to do more.

"Zuko," she breathes, tugging him up so she can kiss him on the lips.

The kiss is hot and heavy. She rises into him like a marionette following her strings and wishes there was less cloth getting in the way of their bodies meeting.

Joining.

It's a need getting stronger and stronger, thrumming in her blood and tattooing itself into her bones. She doesn't care about reason or consequences anymore. He is passion and fire weaving himself into her veins with every touch, every kiss. He makes her feel alive.

"Are you sure?" he whispers, pulling back to look her in the eyes.

"I'm sure, I'm sure."

The words are mere exhalations—hurried and filled with want like the way she kisses him again and goes for his clothes. Soon, there is only skin on skin, bodies moving together, and all the blood thundering in her like a storm about to unleash. Her blood is attuned to him now, surrenders to him as easily as his would to her curled fingers under a full moon.

It is a loss of control she can happily accept if it means feeling so much pleasure.


	31. Element Swap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun plans for this one, but I ended up spending almost two days either on a plane or waiting for a plane (not to mention had my final flight cancelled and got stuck in some random hotel in some random country), so by the time I got around to writing this one I was just in a mood and wanted sleep. So here is my much less comedic offering for the last day of Zutara Week.

Zuko found his eight-year-old son scowling at the portraits of previous Fire Lords, though there were also dried tear trails on his cheeks. Clearly, whatever was bothering little Iroh was a bit more than Kya calling him a stupidhead and not wanting to share his toys with her.

"Something wrong?" Zuko asked, coming to sit next to the boy on the floor. The advisors would have been horrified if they could see the two.

"I'll never be like them."

Zuko glanced up at the portraits. "I wouldn't want you to be."

He'd made a point to break the traditions of his family—or at least to diverge from the path Sozin had wished for the Fire Nation. Frankly, it would worry him if his son wanted to aspire to be like Ozai or Azulon.

"I don't mean in personality," Iroh clarified. "It's just …"

"What?"

The boy fidgeted with his sleeve. "I don't look like them. I don't look like a crown prince of the Fire Nation."

Zuko's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"I mean this!" Iroh pointed at his darker skin and blue eyes. "I'm not like them! I'm not like _you_! I'm supposed to be the crown prince, but everyone just looks at me as if I'm …"

"You take more after your mum, that's all. There's nothing wrong with that."

Iroh's bottom lip jutted in a way that was decidedly similar to his father's habit. It was like looking at that sulky banished prince all over again. "How can you say that? Just look at these portraits—never mind the skin or eye colour. They're all firebenders, every single one of them."

A small breath escaped Zuko's lips. "Is that what this is about? Because you're a waterbender?"

"I heard some of the nobles talking. They said …" Iroh swallowed and struggled a little, "they said it would have been better if Kya had been born first. They said it would be wrong to have a waterbending Fire Lord."

Something twisted in Zuko's stomach and a heavy weight dragged on his heart. These were burdens he had not wanted to place on his children, yet he and Katara had both known the challenges of marrying and starting a family. It wasn't that everyone had opposed their love—many had been supportive—but she was Water Tribe and he was Fire Nation, and that was something neither of them could help. It was something little Iroh and Kya couldn't help.

"I wish I was a firebender," Iroh confessed in a small voice. "I wish I looked more like you instead of Mum. It'd be easier then. People would like me more."

Zuko pulled his son into his arms. "Don't say that."

"But—"

"I like that you take after your mum. It makes me happy, did you know? I like that I can look into your eyes and see her as well. I like that you have her dark skin and you bend her element."

"I don't like it. Everyone just thinks I'm different and don't really belong."

Zuko pulled back to meet his son's eyes. "Do you think your mother doesn't belong here?"

"N-no. Of course not."

"Then why do you think you don't just because you're more like her than me?"

Iroh lowered his gaze. "They treat Kya differently. I see it all the time."

Zuko sighed and pulled the boy back into his arms. "You want to know something, Iroh?"

"What?"

"People are always going to find something to judge you about. That's just what humans do. The Fire Nation didn't think I was much of a crown prince either, but I proved them wrong. You can too, just like your mother did when she became the Fire Lady."

"But I'm not brave like Mum. She can put even those mean old officials in their place with a glare, but I just freeze up. I hate it."

Zuko tightened his hold. "It's okay if you can't be like your mum—she's always been a special case—but you should try to hold your head high." He raised the boy's chin and looked into the blue eyes that were so like Katara's. "Be proud of who you are, Iroh. Be proud that you're the heir and a waterbender. You're a prince of the Fire Nation, you're my son, and I wouldn't have you any other way."

"Even if you say that, it's still hard."

"I know." Zuko smoothed his hand along his son's back. "I know it's not easy for you or Kya, but we're all in this together. That's what it means to be a family. So no more talk of wishing you were a firebender, okay? Your mum will get upset if she hears you saying such things."

Iroh snuggled closer. "I don't wanna upset Mum. And it's not like I don't enjoy waterbending, but …"

"Listen, those things that make you different, even from me, they're good things, Iroh. The world is changing. Just by being you, you can help change it for the better. The Fire Nation needs you."

"You really think so?"

Zuko smiled and ruffled his son's hair. "Of course."

A much more natural grin curved Iroh's lips. "Thanks. I feel a lot better now."

"Good. Now I believe you're about due for a bending lesson with your mum. You'd better hurry."

The boy was off without a backwards glance. Zuko glanced up at the portraits again—at all the rows upon rows of golden-eyed firebenders. Would it be such a bad thing if the next in line after Zuko had blue eyes and wielded water instead? He didn't think so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my interpretation here was not to write about a literal element swap, but a desire to have an "element swap".
> 
> In any case, while this one-shot collection has now been set as complete, I'll add more to it whenever I have a one-shot that isn't long enough to be stand alone.


	32. Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess I'm doing Zutara Week 2019 now. Wrote this in between starfish-despairing on the floor over all the packing and cleaning I still have left to do. (Pro tip: don't leave everything to the last minute when you're moving countries.)

A hand comes over Zuko's eyes. "Guess who."

His mouth twitches. "You know I heard you coming."

"Probably." Katara trails her hand up to his hair and runs her fingers through the unbound strands. "Taking a break from being Fire Lord?"

"The headpiece gets heavy after a while."

She hums in agreement. Her fingers are deft but gentle as she plays with the thick, black strands. It feels lovely. Better than when his servants insist on styling his hair. Still, this is a new thing between them. He tilts his head back to look at her, a faint crease on his brow.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"Hold still for a sec."

He raises his eyebrow. There's a red rose in her hand. She smiles and guides his face back so he's looking at the turtleduck pond. Her fingers tug and twist on his hair, pulling it into a partial topknot, and he feels something get pushed into the strands.

"All done!" she declares, and moves to sit in front of him.

"You just put that rose in my hair, didn't you?"

Her eyes sparkle. "And it goes wonderfully with your robe."

He huffs out a laugh and reaches for the rose.

"Hey, hey." She leans over, catching hold of his wrists. "That was my gift to you. You can't just pull it out."

"A gift I bet you stole from my garden."

"Actually, one of the gardeners gave it to me."

"So it's a re-used gift. Real flattering."

Her lips curve, and his heart misses a beat like a clumsy dancer. It occurs to him that they are very close. So close he can feel her breath fanning his face and count all the shades of blue that make up her eyes if he wanted.

"Well," she says, holding his gaze with a cheeky glint, "red was never really my colour."

His gaze dips to her lips and then back to meet her eyes. He swallows. "Right. Maybe I should get the gardeners to plant some blue flowers."

"I'd like that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up these will all be short, my updating will likely be sporadic, but I will (fingers crossed) get these all written and posted by the end of Zutara Week.


	33. Speak

"Do a handstand!"

"Guys, this isn't funny," Zuko grumbled, even as he planted his hands flat and did a perfect handstand.

Sokka grinned. "You're right. It's hilarious!"

Zuko scowled awfully at his friend. Through some freak spirit act, he had no choice but to obey any command given to him. Didn't matter how half-hearted the words were said or how odd the request. As he was Fire lord, this was a bad, bad thing. He'd immediately notified Aang, who had come (and brought everyone else) to take him off to the Ember Island beach house while Iroh took over Fire Lord duties.

Aang was now communicating with the past Avatars to figure out how to help Zuko. The others had decided it was torment Zuko hour. Toph was being especially ruthless.

"I know," she said with her demon-child smile, "Zuko, go kiss Katara."

"W-what?" Katara said, cheeks darkening. "You just can't tell him to—"

"Katara," Zuko said quickly, "you have to give me another—"

But he couldn't finish the words because he was already next to her. It was like a hand was forcing his head down and then his lips were on hers. Toph had the nerve to wolfbat whistle.

Zuko's face went hot all over. He pulled back, meeting her wide eyes. "Sorry. I couldn't stop it."

She fidgeted with her hair, flushed and her gaze skittering off to the side. "Um, it's okay."

"Aw," Suki said in a cooing kind of way. "Look how red they're going."

"Red schmed," Toph responded. "You should feel their heartbeats!"

"Toph!" Zuko and Katara exclaimed in unison.

This was mortifying.

"Alright, alright," Sokka said, "as funny as this is, I'm not sure how I feel about watching a guy get ordered to kiss my sister, so—"

"You're right." Toph's grin widened. "Zuko, go kiss Sokka."

Sokka spluttered and waved his arms about, but Zuko was more interested in the fact that there was no magical pull tugging him towards Sokka.

"Huh," Zuko said. "I think it's gone."

"Wait, really?" Sokka approached, rubbing his chin and walking around the young Fire Lord. "Zuko, do a flip."

Nothing.

"Touch your nose with your tongue!"

Still nothing.

Zuko let out a deep sigh of relief. "It's gone. It's really gone."

Suki's eyes lit up. "I know! It must have been true love's kiss!"

It was like something exploded. Sokka and Toph were both talking at once, demanding to know more. Zuko, however, just shared a blushing glance with Katara.

Could it be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't thinking about _Ella Enchanted_ when I wrote this, but the whole 'must obey' thing is from that, so figure I'd give a nod to the film. Also want to apologise for not being able to reply to comments. I have no internet now and am super busy with moving, so just using wifi when I can. Replies will definitely be coming when I'm settled again!


	34. Shattered

Her limbs are slow and heavy, wanting to crumple. Her head is like a weighty shell stuffed with wool. She's exhausted to her bones, to her soul. She's been writing up proposal after proposal and making so many speeches that her fingers are calloused and her voice hoarse.

Somehow, saving the world nine years ago had seemed so much easier.

Zuko smiles when he sees her and opens his arms. She folds into him like a wave crashing on a familiar shore. He holds her close and plants a feather-light kiss on her hair.

"You look shattered," he murmurs.

"I feel like I could sleep for years."

"You know, as Fire Lord I could just—"

"No." She pulls back enough to meet his gaze. "You said yourself it's better if we can convince them to go with my proposed reforms for education, and I …" Her gaze dips to his chest. "I want to do this. I want to prove that I can do this."

His hands find her cheeks, tilting her head up. "You don't have to prove anything. Not to me, and definitely not to them."

"Even so …"

One corner of his mouth rises. "Alright. I won't interfere. Knowing you, you'll get those old stiffs wrapped around your finger in no time anyway."

She kisses him on the lips. "Thank you."

They kiss again, sweet and lingering, and then he enfolds her back in his arms. She closes her eyes and breathes in his scent of spices and home. All the tension melts out of her, leaving her bone-limp and muzzy, but it's the pleasant kind. This is her favourite time of day. A time to take a break from royal obligations and her own projects and just be together with her husband.

"Zuko?"

"Mm?"

"I love you."

He rubs her back and places another kiss on her hair. "I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to interpret "Shattered" as in the slang sense of being really tired.
> 
> In any case, I sadly will not make the August 3 deadline, but I will post the rest of my ZW one-shots asap.


	35. Mentor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to pick this up again. Here we have Day 4 for Zutara Week 2019.

The moon looks bloated with silver, unnerving rather than beautiful. Or maybe that's just because Zuko's heart is still stuttering frantically like wings trying to keep flight in a storm. The woman, Hama, had controlled him like a puppet. Had controlled them all. But he was the only firebender. She had paid him _special attention_.

He presses his hand to his heart and takes deep, shaky breaths. Katara meets his gaze. There are tears trailing down her cheeks.

"Come on," Sokka says, wrapping an arm around her. "Let's get out of here."

Aang helps Zuko to his feet.

No one talks much as they head back to the campsite.

oOo

It's hard to sleep. Zuko watches the flames, not wanting to let the fire go out. Not yet. He's come close to death several times, but this is different.

Katara sits up and looks at him. Her eyes are big and strained. She hasn't got any sleep either. Without a word, she pushes off her blanket and moves to sit next to him, close enough so their arms brush. The shock of touch is like a soothing balm. He wants to shift closer, but he stays still. He's old enough to not need hugs now. Old enough to know there's no point crying or admitting he was scared. Maybe still is. Being open with his vulnerability has never got him anything good in the past. Not since Mum …

"I'm sorry," Katara whispers.

His gaze darts to hers. "What for?"

"Because she tried to—"

"That wasn't your fault."

A trembling silence. It feels fragile and raw. Both of them have been through a lot tonight.

"I was so happy when I learned she was a southern waterbender," she says, head lowered so her hair tumbles forward and hides her face. "I thought … I thought I could finally …"

Her voice gets choked up and she sniffs. Zuko bites his lip, unsure what to do. He's not good with emotions. Not good with words either. Still, some kind of instinct guides his hand. He tucks her hair behind her ears and wipes the tears from her cheek with his thumb. Her eyes widen.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, an echo of her own words. "It's my nation that did this to your people. I'm so sorry, Katara."

She crumples into his chest, fingers curling into his tunic. He hesitates before his arms come around her.

It's like finding stable ground after stumbling for so long. Like being surrounded in calm.

Maybe she feels the same.

They clutch each other tighter. No doubt his father and sister would mock him if they saw him, but Zuko doesn't care. He needs this, and he knows she needs this as well.

"I'm glad you're alive," she says softly.

His heartbeat steadies and it's like weights are falling off his shoulders. "Only because of you." He presses his face into her shoulder. "Thank you for saving me."


	36. Youth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 5 of Zutara Week 2019.

Zuko recognises the Painted Lady. Too young, too familiar in her movements. She is not the spirit from his childhood stories any more than he is the Blue Spirit. But he had hated the factory as well. Hated the pollution that filled the river, the sickness and suffering it caused to his people.

So he bites his tongue. He does not expose her, does not stop her. Not when it would expose him too.

Only when she disappears into mist does he follow. It's stupid, reckless, but he has to know.

"Why did you do it?" he asks.

She whips around, lashes of water already reaching for him. He dodges easily because he knows her, knows what kind of moves she pulls when she's startled and going on the defensive. Her eyes widen at the sight of his blue mask, and she straightens out of her stance. It's clear she doesn't recognise _him_.

"You …" she says, tilting her head. "You're the Blue Spirit. You're the one who rescued the Avatar all those months ago."

"Maybe, but you are not the Painted Lady." He gestures at her cheek. "Your paint is coming off."

Her hand darts to her cheek and she ducks her head, soft veil falling around her face. It's hard to tell but it looks like she's blushing.

"Why did you do it?" he repeats. "These are Fire Nation people. They're your enemy, aren't they? Why help them? Why pretend to be their spirit?"

She raises her chin. Her cheeks are still a bit pink, but she looks him boldly in the eye. "Because they needed help, and I could give it to them. I will never turn my back on those who need me."

Her words are like a punch to the chest. A reminder of a thirteen-year-old boy who had wanted to protect his people, even if it meant speaking up when he shouldn't. Even if it meant fighting against a master firebender.

But it's also a reminder of a girl saying she could heal his uncle, of hushed conversations in the catacombs of Ba Sing Se, of that moment when she had offered the branch of truce to him.

_"Maybe you could be free of it. I have healing abilities …"_

Zuko swallows. He's grateful for the mask. Grateful that she can't see how much she has thrown him.

He's wondered more than once what would have happened had he chosen to follow her instead of Azula.

Katara tilts her head. "Why did you come here?"

"To see if it was true, I guess."

"What?"

"That the people were sick. That they were dying."

"Even if they're Fire Nation?"

Her tone is arch, trying to turn his questions back on him in a teasing way.

"Maybe I'm Fire Nation, too."

Surprise ripples through her expression.

He bows to her, fist pressed to his palm. Then he turns to leave.

"Wait," she calls. "Come with me."

He stills.

"My friends and I, we're going to stop this war. We're going to stop the Fire Lord and all the suffering he's caused."

"You don't even know who I am."

"I know you saved the Avatar once. I know you came here because you were worried about this village." She steps closer. "Don't you want to end it for good? Don't you—"

"I have to go."

"Wait!"

She grabs his wrist, and he's not sure why he lets her. He could have run. He could have pushed her away.

Too many emotions choke his throat. Her touch is gentle, as gentle as it had been when she'd brushed the tips of her fingers along his scar.

"Trust me, Katara," he says, keeping his back to her, "you don't want me on your team."

Her hand releases him in an instant. When he looks over his shoulder, her eyes are wide.

"Zuko?" she whispers.

He runs.

He runs because he's not sure what else to do.

He runs because he's confused and torn, and her offer is so much more tempting now.

_"Come with me."_

Zuko keeps running.


	37. Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 6 for Zutara Week 2019.

Katara finds the boy on the shore near the village. He's too pale and wears clothes like the one who killed Mum. Fire Nation. Her fingers dig into her palms and her pulse skitters into a rapid, sickening flutter. She looks up at the sky, but there's no black snow. Not this time. There's no metal ships either. A glance up and down the shore reveals no other people. The boy is alone.

He's also crying.

She knows those tears. The ugly, gasping tears that wrench at your guts and squeeze all the breath out of your lungs. The tears that choke and choke and choke because it's _too much_.

Those are tears of grief. Of despair.

There was a storm last night. It had been so bad that Yuka's roof had caved in on her home. Maybe this boy had been caught out in that. Maybe he'd been shipwrecked here.

Katara steps closer, biting her lip. He can't be more than thirteen. He looks about the same age as Sokka. Maybe it's okay to approach him. Anyway, she can't just leave him crying here, even if he is an enemy.

"Are you … are you okay?"

He flinches like a spooked arctic hen, fire sparking from his fists as he scrabbles with wobbly legs to his feet. Her eyes widen and she can't help but stare. There's a burn wound on his face—big, ugly. His left eye is twisted into a permanent squint because of it, but the eye itself is just as bright a gold as his right. The burn doesn't look fresh. It's already beginning to scar.

His gaze catches hers before he crumples back to his knees. She's at his side in an instant, no longer afraid. His eyes hadn't been like _that man's_. This one is more wounded pup than murderous monster.

"Hey," she says, touching his shoulder.

He recoils, but it's obvious he's too weak to actually pull away.

"Are you hurt?" she asks.

He shakes his head. Not that he seems happy about it. His chin quivers and his face screws up, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks. "It … it saved me," he whispers.

"It?"

His fingers curl into the pebbly shore. No sparks of fire now. He's trembling and emotions flicker over his face like splintering cracks: anger, fear, disgust. She squeezes his shoulder, wanting to comfort, but all that does is make him shudder and look at his hands like they don't belong to him. Like he wishes he could rip them off.

"What happened?" she asks gently. "You can tell me."

"I found the Avatar."

"You _what_?"

"In the storm, waterbending saved me." His voice cracks and he wraps his arms around his stomach, rocking slightly. "My waterbending."

Katara can only stare. This is the Avatar. This strange, distressed Fire Nation boy who washed up on her shore is the Avatar.

This was going to change everything.


	38. Easier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 7 of Zutara Week 2019.

The dragon is beautiful. Red scales glimmer like gems, and its eyes wink at her in fire-tinted gold. One of its wings is bent oddly. Its horns are also small, like little spring buds still to grow. The dragon must be young. Young and injured.

Katara's heart pounds and pounds. She's heard so many stories about these creatures. That they're vicious, that they reduce entire villages to ash with their flames. But this one just watches her from the other end of the cave. Watches and trembles, its chest rising and falling quickly.

She steps closer. "I'm not going to hurt you."

It snorts, smoke curling free of its nostrils. She hesitates, pulse spiking in fear and adrenaline. Dragon fire is powerful. A weak waterbender like her has no hope of blocking it.

"Please," she says, holding both hands out in a low, appeasing gesture. "I just want to check your wing. You look like you're in a lot of pain."

It stares and stares without blinking. She risks another step closer. Another snort, a warning.

She bites her lip. "Look, I get you probably don't like humans, but I don't think you can fly now, can you? It's in your best interest to let me help you."

The dragon snorts in a scoffing kind of way, as if to demand what she thinks she can do.

Her eyes widen. "Wait, can you understand me?"

It rolls its eyes.

"You can! You can actually understand me!"

She smiles, delighted and surprised. The stories had said dragons were just wild, mindless beasts. A mindless beast wouldn't understand her language, though. Her instincts were right. This creature is more than the monster it's made out to be in stories.

It watches her with those fire-tinted eyes that are fierce but somehow remind her of a rabbitdeer cornered by a wolfbat. The dragon is wary. Maybe afraid. Maybe its heard stories about her people as well—how humans kill every dragon they can and make boots and armour out of their scaled hides. Put that way, her people are the ones who seem like the monsters.

"I promise I won't hurt you," she says, holding its gaze. "I just want to help."

It feels like an eternity before the dragon nods.

oOo

The dragon can not only understand human language but can write it as well, scratching characters into the dirt with a sharp claw. This makes it easier to communicate. She learns his name is Zuko. He won't tell her much about himself, but he does admit he got caught in a storm while travelling and had been forced south. That's how he'd ended up on her land.

She has so many questions, but he has only one for her.

 _"Why are you helping me?"_ he writes.

She's not sure how to explain it. It's easy to hate and be afraid, to do what their kinds have always done to each other. But for her it had been easier to help him.

"I don't turn my back on those who need me." She smiles. "Not even dragons."

His expression is hard to read. He goes quiet after that, and when the sun starts to sink he tells her she should go.

"But the poultice will need to be changed and—"

 _"I'll be fine,"_ he writes. _"Just get out of here."_

"But—"

Fire shoots from his mouth and the heat of it grazes her face. It's scary. He could melt the skin right off her, but she stands her ground.

"No," she says. "I won't go. I won't leave you when you still need help."

He makes an impatient sound and picks her up with his teeth by the scruff of her tunic.

"Hey! Put me down!"

He does, but only when she's back at the cave mouth. _"Go,"_ he writes.

She shakes her head. "You won't heal on your own."

A huffy sigh-snort escapes him. _"Fine, but you can't stay here. Come back tomorrow."_

He doesn't give her room to argue, not this time. But that doesn't mean she has to listen to him either. She goes back to her village and collects more healing herbs before setting for the cave. The moon is up now and stars glow like scatterings of sea pearls.

Her footsteps are hushed as she approaches the cave. She doesn't want to alert him and let him chase her off. She'll watch and wait for when the poultice needs to be changed.

Except her dragon friend isn't in the cave. There's a boy huddled by a small campfire. Or maybe a man. He looks like he's toeing the line between the two. His black hair is long, his body bare. One of his arms is injured. He shivers and breathes out a small plume of flames. She can't help the gasp that escapes her.

Fire-tinted gold eyes dart up and lock with hers. Her body freezes and her heart thumps faster. He's beautiful.

"You," she whispers. "You're—"

"Get out!"

He sweeps his uninjured arm out, flames shadowing the movement like a bright crescent. She jumps back, wide-eyed, but she doesn't run. She can't.

The stories had never told her about this.

No wonder Zuko could understand and write in her language. No wonder he seemed different from the other wild animals she's come across. The dragon is also a human boy.


End file.
